#oh also the city spins very slowly

[catwaifuwu]

:3 choose an OC and tell me a few facts about them!!! I didn’t know you had OCs

Well. Idk all my ocs are like ten years old but I have one who got turned into being made of ice by accidentally drinking from an enchanted fountain. She has ice powers and is constantly worried about her job despite being married to a lord

I've got another guy who is. Well he's my edgy plural anime wolf boy cyborg and I love him dearly. He broke out of the facility he was being experimented on and started travelling around with this girl he found living in the slums outside a large city

[nvuy]

to invoke perjury (and to love no one else) — sunday

summary. an old telltale whisper of a confession leaves sunday defenceless, and all the more paranoid of your loyalty to him.

notes. omg this is so epic i say as i hold up this work that nobody asked for. i finally finished the penacony tb quest everybody clap it up for me. my sunday obsession is so so bad somebody save me from the trenches.

warnings. mdni. implied explicit content, dark themes, manipulation, sunday is (unsurprisingly) very controlling, sunday is also tremendously paranoid of everything, yandere themes, he makes you cry, sunday uses that weird lying curse on you, but worry not he does love you. i think. let me know if ive missed anything!

“You are breaking my heart.”

You glanced up from the model of the city, growing tired of picking at the corner of one of the buildings. A nervous habit, if you will. When Sunday noticed the damage later, he’d scold you for it.

For now, his eyes were elsewhere. He, too, was staring down at the miniature pinball machine, spinning it with a gloved finger.

You fidgeted, uncertain. “What?”

“You’re lying to me,” Sunday accused. His tone was soft.

Your hands pressed to the sides of the table. “I haven’t lied to you.”

“Not recently, no,” he agreed. He agreed, and you almost sprang from your seat. “But you have. And you still are.”

To that, you gripped the edge of the table tighter. Uncertainty wrought heavy in your bones like lead.

It suddenly felt cold. As if he’d slid ice along your spine. A chill wracked through you. You realised the feeling was his gaze.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

But he was still slowly twisting the pinball machine around and around. He then sighed.

And then he leaned back and traced a finger along the edge of the table, not at all mindful of the small animated figurines occupying the city.

He gave one of their heads a small push, and the small figure’s body sank into the floor.

You took it as a warning.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

Of course you did.

It was a swirl of colour and muted hushed whispers now, but you could recall taking his hand, promising him the world, and kissing along his fingers to the swell of his wrist.

You nodded meekly.

Sunday hummed, clearly lost in thought. “I never forgot what you said to me.” Oh, you knew that look. That distant, faraway look. Like he’s trapping himself in his own head again. He was good at that. Acting, pretending. Putting on a show. “I’d never felt the same again.”

He was still tracing the edge of the table.

There was a small grin on his face.

Such a pleasant expression, paired with that a gorgeous light-hearted tone. His voice sounded like a lullaby echoing in the back of your mind.

His halo was glowing in the light.

“You said to me you’d be my everything. You offered a piece of your very own soul to me.” He gloved finger flitted from the polished wood, and then stopped short of your hand resting on the table. “You have such a lovely heart.”

The muscle raced in your chest.

You weren’t sure if it was out of flattery or fear. You weren’t able to tell the difference anymore.

“Such a shame you continue to spit poison at me. I used to love talking to you.” His gloved finger followed the curvature of your knuckles. “You’ve changed. You’re so different from when I met you.”

Your hands curled into fists as he traced the bone-white colour as you squeezed. Your nails dug into your palms.

He’d changed, too. He’s different too. He’s more watchful now. He barely makes time for himself anymore. He’s always either working or watching you like a hawk.

It’s unnerving. The unsettling brush of his lashes against your skin, and that unbreaking stare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all you said. “I haven’t changed at all.”

Sunday hummed. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” You found the courage to glance up at him. That same unbreaking stare. When you met his gaze, he smiled. “I still care about you.”

“But, you don’t.” There was a light hearted ring in his voice.

You stopped. “What?”

“You don’t love me anymore.”

And there it was.

He was paranoid. He always had been, since the day you shedded a glove from his hand to kiss the skin wrapped around bone white knuckles. He’d been so busy pressing his nails into his palm, so preoccupied in what you were doing, why you were doing this, what you gained from it.

He’s paranoid now. He’s never stopped. He’s always been anxious. He’s always been overthinking your every move like you’re an opponent in a game of chess; always on his toes, always watching, either with his own eyes that more often than not, glared daggers into you, or through the nightingales that swarmed the mansion.

You were shaking. You tried to stop yourself.

He noticed. “You’re upset.”

“Of course, I’m upset.” Your nails dug into the underside of the table. You felt them strain as your jaw clenched.

“Is it wrong to think you’re dishonest?”

“Yes,” you answered. “Yes, it’s wrong. You’re wrong.”

“Perhaps I am, then, for falling in love with a liar.” His fingers chased up your arm slowly. “I always valued honesty above all. How rich.”

“But I’m–” You didn’t even know how to defend yourself.

Instead, you fell completely silent, face burning in humiliation.

The scent of him was intoxicating. Orange blossoms and sandalwood. You had memorised the scents of his favourite fragrances, the shampoo he used, down to his toothpaste. You knew all of it. The way he brushed his hair, the temperature of the water he preferred for his baths, to the chronological order of steps on how he got ready in the morning.

It was all order; a set of stagnant unchanging steps. Like he was following a recipe to its very word.

He was particular.

And he hated change.

He took your silence as an invitation to pry further. “You were so enchanting that night.” He was telling the truth. You could read it on his expression–and his expression. That same expression he held on that night you offered him your heart to take. “And I know now, that you are most enchanting when you lie.”

“What’s–” You interlocked your fingers. His own were tracing the bone of your shoulder now. “What have I done? Why’re you–”

“You, of all people, must understand my uncertainty,” he spoke. He sounded as if you were supposed to know the answer.

Maybe there was no answer at all. No spark to his flame. He’s just doing all of this, because he can. Because he’s paranoid, and he’s hiding his churning stomach and the anxiety that fills his throat with this stage play he’s put on.

“You willingly took in a perfect home, much different from where you came from.” He gestured to the room around him. Pillars that intricately curled into the ceiling, floor polished, the scaled model of Penacony tended to and dusted, and the walls featuring thousands of commissioned pieces from artists all over the galaxy. “No sorrows, no disorder, no dishonesty. Certainly not here.

His eyes shift to you again. “And certainly not now.”

You shrank down into your seat.

“And, under the light of the Harmony–” He raises his hands to gesture to the ceiling, as if THEY’RE watching over him. “–All wickedness is revealed. That is precisely why you're so radiant in the sunlight.”

What the fuck is he talking about?

He must have noticed your expression. You must have appeared distressed. Fidgeting nervously, your blood running cold beneath your skin.

Perhaps your apprehension, the clear anxiousness drawn over your face, egged him further.

He did not dwell on it. Instead, he simply narrowed his eyes. “It is as I suspected.” When your eyebrows raised in surprise, he continued, “you’ve been lying.”

“You don’t trust me anymore?” You frantically wiped a stray tear that had fallen. You hoped he didn’t notice the waver in your tone.

Sunday merely nodded, blinking slowly. “You understand now.”

You stared at the floor. His eyes were burning into your skull.

Your brows knitted together.

A bell tolled nearby.

You don’t recall any sort of church close by.

“I cannot excuse, nor house, nor bed, a liar. It is beyond THEIR natural order. Liars have no place in an assimilated, perfect world.”

You looked elsewhere. You picked nervously at the hem of your shirt, suddenly feeling like you were drowning in hot water.

Your nose filled and clogged with a horrible earthy scent much unlike his shampoo. This was different, real and raw, like there was somebody else in the room.

When you looked around, there was nobody else.

Just the two of you.

“Stand up,” he ordered softly.

You did so, hesitantly, still shaking.

You must have looked pathetic.

Sunday offered you his hand.

Desperate, you took it, and kissed his knuckles.

He let out a faint laugh. “That will not work. Not this time, I’m afraid.” He looked up towards the ceiling for a brief moment, before he closed his eyes. “O Triple-Faced Soul, let fire brand flesh and bone with the mark of honesty–”

Something was wrong, and his face was changing.

For a moment, you saw tracks like golden water flow down his cheeks.

His halo was glowing, but there was something else behind his head. A clouded and muted swirl of colours, mismatched and ever changing.

You tried to pull your hand from his grip, but there was a weight pressed to your limbs.

“–And ensure that every vow is etched in the fervour of undeniable truth.”

“What’re you–” He let go of your hand and you stumbled. The bell toll was only just louder by a margin, and there was now a searing heat in your head. “What’re you doing?!”

Your hands desperately rested on his shoulders, trying to keep yourself upright.

You tried again to wrench yourself from his touch. It was sickening how gentle he was being.

Slowly, he guided you back to the love seat, tutting and scolding you as you fought in his hold. How could somebody so horrible be so gentle?

You felt the urge to throw up all over his clothes. Sweat beaded down your neck and pooled at your collarbone like a necklace.

“What did you do to me?” You were panicking. “What have you done?” You pressed the pads of your fingers to your temples to try and soothe the burning. “You cursed me?”

“I’ve blessed you,” he whispered. “This way, you will be rectified.”

Something was whispering to you. Almost inaudible, indiscernible, like the banging of a death knell in your ears.

What is it? What is that?

You looked to him for an answer, but words caught heavy on your tongue like lead.

“All you have to do is tell the truth.”

You shook your head. “I’m not speaking to you like this,” you tried. Your voice came out strained.

“You don’t have a choice,” he snapped. “You are not in control.”

“You’ll hurt me for the sake of your precious pride?” Your hands coiled into fists at your sides. Thank the Lords he’d seated you, for you were sure you would’ve fallen over by now. Your feet had since gone numb.

The whispering was right in your ear. When you turned your head to confront the noise, there was nothing there.

“It will not hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday explained gently. “I hope that doesn’t come as a challenge to you.”

Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head–

“I’m not answering anything you ask,” you forced out through gritted teeth.

Sunday only let out a breathy, exasperated sigh. “Then don’t. We’ll see what happens to you.”

You said nothing.

Instead, you tried to stand up to leave. Screw this curse he’s put on your head because he’s retreated into his own insecurities. He wasn’t winning this time.

You were so sick of this paranoia.

When you stood, a dizziness hit you like a wave. You desperately reached for anything, and your hands found his. He did not guide you back down into the seat, but his gloved hands remained encased in yours.

Such a perfect, warm fit.

Sunday offered you a gentle, yet peculiar smile.

“Question: have you ever lied to me?”

You didn’t answer.

Your flesh felt as though it was set alight. As if the halovian had personally poured gasoline over you and held a match to the tip of your nose and watched you burn alive.

The whispering was loud. The voices was indiscernible. You couldn’t place a finger to its source, nor a face, nor a name. Three voices, all repeating the same thing. You could tell from its tone, its pitch modulation, and yet you couldn’t understand what was being spoken.

It didn’t sound like any language you knew.

“Answer the question, angel.”

Hot tears bubbled over your lashes.

“Yes.” You fought to keep the word lodged in the back of your throat, but when you forced it out, the lava on your tongue cooled significantly. The whispers grew softer.

He noticed the look of relief cross over your face. “See?” A gloved hand came down to gently touch the crown of your head. “Just answer truthfully, and it will all be okay.”

Then, the white material of his gloves came forward to swipe gently at the tears below your eyes. Salt soaked the soft cotton.

Your hand reached up shakily to hold onto his wrist.

“Did you lie to me the night we met?”

The swirls of colour around his halo were returning.

Your thumb traced the ring on his finger. Gold, with a blue gem on its interior.

Instead of answering, you tried to press your lips to his.

Sunday stopped you, though it took restraint. He held your face still, lips just barely brushing against your own. He tasted salt. Salt and sweet lies, and Aeons above was it addicting.

He sighed. “Don’t tempt me.” He watched you flinch, and rang a simple reminder, “answer.”

“Yes,” you said.

As he expected.

You were so beautiful like this. Raw, and honest.

His heart squeezed with disgust. “Did you lie when you said you loved me?”

Frantically, you shook your head. “No.”

He smiled.

“Did you lie when you said you’d die for me?” He tilted his head.

Your lips pressed together. Your fingers curled tight in the loose curls of his hair. Your nails brushed softly against his feathers.

Your chest heaved when he finally sat beside you on the couch. His skin was so warm pressed against yours, and the contact made you feel dizzy.

“Yes,” you responded.

He accepted it. His finger softly petted your cheek.

Oh, you were crying.

You felt so pathetic and weak, and bubbled words caught in your throat like fish on a hook. You felt trapped, and the colours behind his head were growing more vibrant, brighter, accompanying and drowning out that awful halo.

He’s horrible. He’s so horrible.

You wanted to say it, you wanted to tell him that you needed him to leave. You needed him gone.

He beat you to it. “Do you hate me?”

You heaved a sob. “No.” And you didn’t. You didn’t hate him, despite his obsessive control and unjustified possessiveness. His hubris, and his inability to see past his own paranoia and fear. “Please stop.”

You pressed your lips to the small, poniard-shaped jewel on his chest.

Your sign of devotion did not deter him, though, he was sure you would always have some sort of effect on him.

“It shouldn’t hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday reminded you. There was a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I don’t hate you,” you repeated, this time as firmly as you could—albeit your voice shook with fervour. “I never hated you.”

“I’m relieved.” His hand petted your hair. “So, so relieved.”

You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed.

You prayed it was over. You prayed and prayed for the voices to dissipate from your mind. You tried to will them away, to squeeze your eyes shut and beg for the whispers to fade into the background of white noise and static.

The kaleidoscope of colours crept below your eyelids.

Sunday held you securely, and as warm as he was, and as firm and yet so gently his arms sat snugly against you, you felt so cold. So cold and alone and so afraid.

He could fix that.

He hadn’t said a word for a moment.

The burning feeling of your skin returned, and you let out another drawn out noise of distress.

He shushed you. “One final question.”

You shook your head.

Your hands were trembling, fingers weakly pressing to your temples to rid the pounding that made your stomach churn. Your vision was swamped in swirls and patterns of colours you couldn’t put a name to.

His face, too, warped into something evil.

This wasn’t the man whose knuckles you’d kissed, whose wings gently fluttered against your skin, who’d plucked a small feather from them and handed it to you as a symbol of his devotion.

His halo dimmed for a moment.

You felt his lips brush against your ear and the tickle of a feather.

“Do you still love me?”

[dqrciedaily]

baby arsenal, arsenal wfc x teen!reader

a/n: y/n is so younger me coded minus the fact that she is german

also promise more fics coming soon x

-

y/n y/l/n, the sixteen year old rising star of not only the german national team but also arsenal women's football club, had seamlessly transitioned from the bustling streets of cologne to the vibrant city of london. her two older brothers, max and louis, had started her passion for football from a young age, sculpting her into the strong defender she was today. they always had her in the garden with them having a kick about before urging their father to let her go for trials at the local club, which deemed to be extremely successful.

arsenal had scouted y/n whilst she was playing for fc köln. three weeks later her and her parents were signing papers and organising living arrangements as well as the school situation. they settled on her living with lia as well as her attending the local school in the area.

as the first initial weeks passed, her once shy demeanor melted away, replaced by a vibrant personality that charmed everyone around her. she had also very quickly picked up the name ‘baby arsenal’ from fans and soon her teammates had started calling her that too. kyra and y/n had almostly instantly became friends, pulling y/n out of her nonexistent shell within two weeks, along with victoria, teyah and laura, y/n settled in quickly.

one friday evening, y/n found herself invited to a party by her school friends. eager to fit in with the english teenage life she hastily accepted. embracing the opportunity to get to know her new friends in a different environment, as well as allowing herself to fully relax since moving to the foreign country.

ignoring the cold english weather, y/n slipped on one of her favourite backless black dresses and a pair of her friend’s high heels, that her long legs definitely weren’t accustomed to. many pre drinks later they arrived at the party at nine pm, the minute the group of girls arrived at the party they were straight into the open arms of their other friends. music was blaring as y/n slowly let herself relax, she couldn’t even remember how many new people she had met.

however, the temptation of the party proved too intoxicating, the drinks flowed freely, and before she knew it, the world was slowly tilting on its axis, spinning out of control as she succumbed to the intoxicating haze. the party deemed to be a bit boring now that it had reached past eleven pm, so on her unsteady feet y/n managed to walk out the party and onto the side walk. with her vision blurred and her balance faltering, she fumbled for her phone and dialed kyra’s number, interrupting what was supposed to be a cozy game night for the rest of the team.

"ky! oh my goodness i can’t believe you picked up, i have so much to tell you!” y/n giggled into the phone, "there were like so many pretty girls here tonight and i’m bloody freezing over here. i also had so many drinks! oh and I can't get home. oh and have i ever old you how much i love you! ich liebe dich ky ky…"

throughout the phone call kyra switched it onto speakerphone meaning that everyone could hear the state y/n was in. without hesitation, steph, one of y/n’s self-appointed team mums sprang into action. definitely breaking some speed limits as she rushed to y/n’s location, she found her disoriented but relieved to see she was still standing. quickly getting out the car she wrapped an arm around her guiding her to the

upon their arrival back to lia’s house, leah, kim, lia, beth and steph gathered around y/n, their concern evident in their expressions. "y/n," kim began, her voice gentle yet firm, "you can’t be going around getting drunk, especially at sixteen! what were you thinking?" but before kim’s rant could continue leah placed a hand on the skippers shoulder, “you're young, and we understand that, but you have to be responsible, especially considering the position you're in.” kim nodded her head in agreement before saying, “you're part of this team now, and that means holding yourself to a higher standard than this.”

with a deep breath, she nodded in acknowledgment, her resolve hardening with each passing moment. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "i'll do better, i promise."

with that kyra, stina and laura lead her upstairs. the high heels long forgotten in the hallway as steph urged her to take them off after watching her stumble around in them. laura mumbled soothing words in german as she slipped an oversized t-shirt over y/n’s head, letting the dress fabric pool at her ankles. stina handed laura shorts for her whilst kyra rummaged around in the bathroom for makeup remover.

with tender care, kyra removed the remnants of makeup on her face, before stina tucked her into bed with gentle hands. laura laid the dress over the back of her desk chair as y/n’s eyelids drooped with exhaustion, her body finally catching up with the events of the evening as she sank into the embrace of her plush duvet.

kyra brushed a stray lock of hair from y/n’s forehead, with a final exchange of reassuring smiles kyra, stina and laura bid her goodnight, their footsteps fading into the distance as they left her to sleep. alone in the quiet of her room, y/n closed her eyes, a sense of peace washing over her as sleep overcame her senses.

but just as she began to drift into slumber, a soft knock sounded at her door, and lia entered, her face lit up by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. In her hands she carried a glass of water and a small packet of tablets, her expression one of concern and care.

"here you go, y/n/n," lia said softly, her voice a whisper in the stillness of the room. "drink this, and take these tablets. they'll help with the headache in the morning." she sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on y/n’s leg, rubbing soothing circles on it. “they’re not mad at you i promise maus. let’s just keep the drinking on the cool for now, okay?”

y/n accepted the water and tablet with a grateful nod, as lia got up to leave the room she turned off the bedside table before whispering “schlaf gut maus.” the door closing behind her, the room going pitch dark allowing y/n to finally drift to sleep.

[a-spes]

T H E D O G ' S F A L L - One shot.

Words count - 5,2k.

Tags & Warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, angst, harm/comfort, manipulation, mentions of blood/past abuses, human trafficking.

Summary - Anyone that can beat her in a fight will earn her, and Natasha intends to be the one, working hard to get what she thinks is hers. A dog can't fight for eternity, can it?

Moodboard here.

N/A - It's the longest os I've wrote so far, took me a lot of time but it's enventually here so I really hope you'll enjoy it! If it's the case, don't hesitate to let me know by interacting with the post :)

It is at the back of that popular night club that everything is happening, where no one can see your distress except the one that enjoys it, where everyone is too busy having fun to pay attention to the veritable purpose of this building. On a dark corner that light never reaches, a man is guarding the most important secret of that place, and very few are the people he lets through; only rich and influential men and women get their ticket for this special spectacle that takes place here every night.

Down there, the loud music is replaced by the shouts of excited men that makes her sigh; why do they have to scream like animals? If she gets a few glances, no one dares to say anything as the infamous Black Widow is walking through the crowd to get to her place. She has blood on her back, people are whispering, some from admiration, others from fear, but no one stays indifferent - how could they? One of the most important mafia bosses of the city, but also one of the most discreet, is here. She has her reputation and, even if she is rarely seen, she is well-known, so none of the men dares to protest when she decides to take place in their lodge, chasing them out of the room. 

From here, she has a perfect view of the cage and, most importantly, of the Dog.

It is obvious that there is no way out of the ring, that you are trapped in that cage until one of these men’s victory - or your last breath - but, somehow, you still believe that defeating them will lead you out of that basement. So, not caring about how many of them are daring to step in your cage, you beat them, one by one. You watch the man you just defeated being escorted out of the cage so the next one could take his place - it gives you a few seconds to catch your breath. 

The world is spinning, you can’t even see the faces of your opponents, but you don’t give up. Even if the only thing you want is to curl up in the corner, crying for your mom, you can’t. You can’t because it will mean giving them your life. No, you need to be stronger than them, to pretend that you don’t feel the pain inflicted by their blows, to pretend that you are not bothered by the metallic taste of the blood in your mouth, they need to believe you could do that all night. But you are not foolish and you know damn well that you won’t last long. 

It is hard to focus on anything, even on breathing, because you are overwhelmed by a crew you can't even see, blinded by the lights; you are the spectacle. They all came to see the Dog fighting, hoping to witness its fall. They are shouting, mostly insults in Russian, whistling and clapping everytime something exciting is happening during a fight, but it won’t be enough to save you from that place. 

Oh, at first, they were cheering for you, but it slowly changed, people getting tired of seeing your pretty face every night. They thought you would be easy to break and hated to be proven wrong, and you perfectly know that the stakes have changed. It is no longer about giving them what they want, entertainment, it is purely about surviving and you noticed how the attitude of your opponents changed over the weeks, becoming more aggressive.

You were a champion, now you are just a little bitch they need to get rid of. 

The organization that threw you in that rat hole understood that as much as you did and, tonight, they changed the rules. Tonight, it'll be only you against the world, until they are tired of it. No break, no help, everytime one leaves, the next one is already stepping in the ring, as an endless torture. 

Tonight, she will be one of them. She has been looking at you hungrily since the first time she came here, and she knows that you will be hers by the end of the night, after all she came just for that, to take you home.

Even if she is here every night, you never had a chance to notice the woman. She was always sitting in the last row, observing you from her balcony, where she is hidden by the shadow, but she noticed you for sure. The time she came, it was only because of one of her associates that wanted to meet here specifically, she never left since. From the moment her eyes landed on you, she was unable to think about anything else, the way you were looking so innocent but so feroce at the same time got her heart. 

She sent a few of her best men, knowing they would lose, as a test, waiting for the moment it would be her turn to enter the cage. She never expected them to win and she would have killed them if they had the audacity to: she is the one that is supposed to defeat you, the only one that has the right to own you. The urge to possess you only grew stronger over the weeks, being deeper every time she came here, she wants to see you as you are breaking under her effect, to control every aspect of your life. 

So she patiently waited for the right time to come, she always liked a bit of challenge anyway, having a soft spot for things that are hard to get. She worked hard to get you, spending weeks observing every of your movements: she learned how you are fighting and your habits, she learned to read your body and face as if she was on your mind, and that’s the difference with the others: if you are a game for them, for her, you are a goal she must reach at all costs. 

As soon as your eyes laid on her, you knew she wouldn’t back up, somehing in the way she stepped in the cage already made all the difference. It is her confidence. It is the smirk on her face, a cocky one. It is the way her hands are stuck in her pockets while she is observing you. It is the slight sigh as she gets rid of her leather jacket. It is all these details that give the impression that she is just here to settle a formality, already certain of her victory.

Even the way she is moving has something unrealist. Every step, every look, is calculated and almost imperceptible. Usually, you would step forward, ready to fight even before they entered the cage to show them you are not afraid, but this time? You can’t help but instinctively step back when she enters. The movement was slight, as you were already leaning the grid but she noticed it, the way her aura is pressuring you, and she loves it.

As soon as the door was closed, your fate was sealed.

It all happened really fast because she knew exactly what to do, she prepared for that moment. You quickly realized that you were right: the woman had nothing in common with the men you were fighting against earlier, you never stood a chance to win that fight. The realization is more painful than the blows she is currently throwing at you. Every punch you try to land, she knows exactly how to dodge it. As if she was on your mind, she knows exactly where to hit to get you weak, stealing your breath and your strenght, having you on your knees then laying on the floor in less than a few minutes. 

At first, you tried to get up, to fight, but she is faster than you are, and wiser, and stronger, and more trained. She is being pretty much better in everything. Soon your vision is so blurry that you can’t see anything, you are feeling so weak that even moving your fingers or keeping your eyes open is just too much. 

"Stay still,” she quietly ordered when she noticed you were struggling against her grip - she had you pinned down on the ground by pressing her foot on your back and grabbed your hair to lift a bit your head. "You're going to be mine no matter what, so don't make things harder for yourself, honey." 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

You hear the countdown but, this time, it is not your victory that is announced, it is hers. As soon as her name is shouted by the crew, her grip releases your hair but you simply don't have the strength to move, the news leaves a void in your chest. The pain, but mostly this feeling of emptiness, is keeping you frozen in place. She owns you, and this simple idea is sending shivers through your whole body. You don't realize yet what is happening, thinking that, maybe, it is just a cruel joke on you, and it explains the lack of reaction when she asks you to get up; she needs to grab your arm and lift to get you on your feet. 

You stumble, fighting the urge to vomit. Your brain can barely process what is happening, especially when you realize that your feet are not touching the ground anymore. In her arms, you are nothing more than a rag doll, silent and motionless, barely having the energy to keep your eyes open. 

"She is not for sale,” she coldly said, her voice bringing you back to reality. As she was on her way to get out of the night club, some men were offering the woman outrageous amounts of money in the hope of getting you, they all backed up once she coldly glanced at them. "No one will ever take you away from me, do you hear that, love? You are safe as long as you’re with me," she then whispered in your ears. 

You drift into unconsciousness as soon as the car starts, despite the woman that kept begging you to keep your eyes open, the way she was cadling you not helping. You just had enough time to notice the men sitting at the front of the black van, both armed and intimidating, before falling into darkness. 

You opened your eyes again when the car stopped in an alley. It is late, the sun gave its throne to the moon a long time ago and, even if you can't tell what time it is, you know it is the middle of the night. How many hours did you spend down there, fighting for your life? The question makes you sick because the only answer is too many. All these hours for nothing because, no matter how hard you triee, you loose. You were never supposed to win their twisted game, you never got a chance and you slowly realize that the promised freedom was just a lure. For weeks you believed them, you played along their rules, thinking it was the only way to get your life back.

And here you are, in the arms of your new owner, a woman you know nothing about but that now has every rights on you, even if you will live depends exclusively on the redhead's choices. The fear twists your stomach, the humiliation clenches your throat and the exhaustion makes your eyes burning, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you repeat in your head, but you don't know for how long you will be able to keep your tears for yourself.  

The woman is not looking at you at all, she is concentrating on not falling as she is walking to the house, barely seeing where her feet are landing. You, however, can't help but observe every detail of her face, noticing how serious her expression is. You are trying to guess how your life is going to be by her side, but you can't, she is a complete mystery and you hate that.

A part of you wants to go back in that basement. It may have been a living hell, but you had your habits, you knew how to survive, now you will have to learn everything again. 

You notice that two armed persons are guarding the front door and, when you pass by them, they exchange a few words in Russian. You can't understand a word of what they are saying, but you guess they are greeting the woman, beside some insults, you don't know a lot and only because that's how they used to call you.

The inside of the penthouse is exactly as you imagined it: expensive, tidy and minimalist. You never felt comfortable in that kind of environment, it always reminded you that you will never have a place in that sphere, you are nothing more than their animal, a dog that does everything they want. 

Once inside, you almost expected her to drop you on the floor but she didn't. Her grip is strong, as if she doesn't want to let you go, that's because she is scared too. She exchanged a few words in Russian with a woman before heading upstairs. 

Your eyes closed because of the light, you don't see much more of the house, nor of where you are going. You can feel that she climbs the stairs, takes a few turns and walks through a door before she eventually lets you go. It is with care that she sits you on the floor of the bathroom. 

"Here we are," she whispered, "you can open your eyes, love," she added when she noticed they were still closed. If you can't see her smile, you can feel her hand brushing your cheek. 

For weeks you didn't see anything else than pitch darkness and the dimmed light of the basement where you were fighting, it is great to eventually be able to see something else. She even made sure to not turn the big light on, only a small one in the corner that diffuses a subdued light. Somehow, she knows exactly what to do to make you feel comfortable. 

"Let me help you," she said, coming closer to kneel in front of you when she realized you couldn't take your bath alone.

On the way home, she sent a message for one of her maids to run a bath for you to enjoy when you arrived. The mirrors fog up and a scent of jasmine fills the room, but even if the idea of taking a bath sounds good, you don't move. You are curled at the exact place she left you in, your knees against your chest.

You are like a dog, but nothing like a fighting one, she thought when she saw how you tried to back up when she reached for your shirt.

"I am not going to do anything," she quietly said, trying to sooth you by using a gentle tone and caressing your cheek with her thumb. "I am going to help you to get rid of those rags so you can get a bath, okay? Then, we can clean your wounds and have a good meal, does this sound good?" she asked and you slowly nodded. 

She helps you to get rid of your clothes that are closer to rags honestly as they have holes in them, the fabric being soaked in dirt, blood and sweat, sticking to your skin. You never felt so vulnerable than right now, under her serious gaze, what is she thinking about? It is impossible to guess but you can feel her eyes on your body as she looks you up and down. A quick glance which allows her to take a mental note about all your injuries.

"What are you doing?" she chuckled, when her eyes didn’t land on your chest but on your crossed arms - you were trying to hide, how cute. "How silly you are,” she whispered when noticing you didn't seem to understand what she was talking about, "thinking you can hide like that."

Her tone sounded too sweet for it to genuinely be and there is something behind her gentle tone that is rigging alarms in your head. You can't tell what it is exactly, but there is that weird feeling, your instinct screaming at you to be careful when your body just wants to give up and be in her arms, ‘cause what could go wrong?

She takes your hands to pull them away from your chest so you can’t hide from her anymore. Her grip is firm, just a little too strong so you understand that, despite her sweet smile, she won't hesitate to be harsh with you if you don’t behave. However, she still seems to be extra careful while moving you, as if you were a porcelain doll, because for nothing in the world she would hurt her fragile princess. She  slowly takes your arms away so she can give a glance at all your injuries. What she sees makes her sigh, she seems about to say something but keeps her words for herself ; you should have been more careful. 

She helped you to get in the bath and it was a nice moment, a few minutes you got for yourself because, surprisingly, she let you bathe yourself alone. Oh, she wasn’t far away, just at the other end of the room, keeping a close eye on you at every time, but dealing with something on her phone. She would occasionally comment on the way you were doing things, talking you throught it so you can shower the proper way, her way. Once you are done, she wraps you on a soft towel, bandages your wounds and gives you clothes that are hers, a hoodie and a short, and you can’t help but notice how good they are smelling, how comfortable you are feeling in these.

"Did you say something?" she genuinely asked, turning to you because she was sure she heard you mumbling a few words. 

She was talking about your life here, talking almost alone as you weren’t really talkative, but thinking she would miss the words you whisepered was a mistake because she never misses anything.

"Nothing important," you replied, but this answer doesn't seem to please the woman, something twitching in her eyes, coming from soft to sharp.

"When I ask you a question, you reply to it, am I clear?” she said, immediately leaving what she was doing to come close to you and grab your chin.  “You are not the one that gets to decide what’s important, your small brain can't handle big decisions and that's why I am here. I mean, see how it got you to be by yourself …" she continued, looking at you with disdain, as if she was thinking that it is only your fault if you ended up in that rat hole, caught in human trafficking. “I am here to give you a second chance and you better take it ‘cause it may be the last… so don't talk to me like that ever again, did I make myself clear enough?"

The only answer you are able to give her is a whining accompanied by a sniffle and she obviously doesn’t like that. Even if you tried your hardest to not let those tears rolling down your cheeks, you can’t help it, her harsh words only making things worse because you are already hating to disapoint the woman. 

"If I knew you would cry, I would've sold you ..", she sighed in annoyance, her nails digging into your skin, "I hate cry-babies, understand?" she asked, but it wasn’t not a question: it was a warning. "The fighter I saw in that ring must be here when I am back," she coldly added before releasing the pressure she was exerting on your face.

She leaves, slamming the door shut so you easily understand that she is upset with you reacting that way. She has done everything she could in order to help you to be comfortable here : she gave you a bath and clothes, cleaned your wounds, promised you a meal and a bed, even gave you comfort but it still doesn't seem to be enough because you were crying as if she was some sort of monster, and she can't bear that vision. She tried to repeat to herself that you are just tired, that things are going to get better with time but it doesn’t calm her down. Whether you want it or not, she will make sure that, one way or another, you will accept her and she won't hesitate to use the hard way if she has to. 

When she comes back, she notices that didn't move an inch, scared by what the woman could say and impressed by the bedroom. But it didn’t prevent your eyes from wandering around the room. It is really minimalist, there is nothing that could give you a hint about the person she is, everything is exactly where it should be, not a speck of dust and no personal objects. It feels like a hotel room more than hers.

When you hear the door, your gaze settles on the woman. Your knees are bent against your chest as if it could protect you from all the dangers of the world. She probably left you for only five minutes, but they felt like hours. Your thoughts had time to run while waiting for her : what about trying to escape? But it never worked, it’s always a dead end, a path to regrets because they always find you, making sure you won’t even think about doing it again and, if they do not find you, it's someone else. You learned that there is no escape and gave up on going back to your old life a long time ago. It is not even the fear of the armed men that is keeping you here, it's the void in you when you think about what you would do if you were free again, nothing. Nothing because you forgot how to live on your own. So you didn't move, not even a finger because she didn't ask you to do it, only being a dog that lives for its masters' will.

But what piques your curiosity is more the tray in her hands than anything else. As soon as she enters the room, closing the door behind her with her foot, a pleasant smell spreads through the room. You can see many things on the tray she brought back : a glass of water, some pills, a bowl of steaming soup with bread and a plate with rice, vegetables and chicken. When was the last time you ate a real meal? Long enough for you to not remember what it was.

"Eat." she said as she put the tray on your knees.

It smells good. That's the first thought that crossed your mind when you saw the plate. For a moment, you forget about the past hours; when was the last time you got a real meal? You can't remember, not even a fragment of a memory. 

You would eat what your owners give you, eat quickly before they come back, never knowing what you are eating nor when the next meal would be; you learned to not ask too many questions. At first, it was difficult to accept such a fate: you would refuse to even taste the food they were giving to you, but it didn't last long. Eventually, you started to eat - inhale - anything you were given without thinking twice about it.

Tonight, for the first time in years, you are going to eat something else than the leftovers of someone you don't even know. Tonight, you won't have to be scared about your food being stolen. Tonight, you can even see the smoke, a sign that your meal is still hot, freshly cooked and maybe homemade.

"I-," you started, but she didn't let you finish your sentence, your lips barely had time to move that she already cut you, leaving no place for an argument.

I am not hungry, you were about to say, and she somehow knew it. She also knew it was a lie, your stomach has been painfully twisted because of that sick feeling for days, but the knot is also caused by your fears. 

It all feels a bit too perfect. It feels like a trap, a way to encourage you to let your guard down only to break you after, making the fall harder. Some did that in the past, why not her? She doesn't look less cruel than the others. Yet, when she is talking, she seems more genuine, you could believe her when she says she only wants what's best for you, that she cares, she just has a twisted way to show it. 

"Yes, you are, so eat, now," she ordered you with such a cold tone that you don't dare to argue. There are all these warnings she doesn't say out loud but you can read in her eyes: just do whatever I tell you, pretty girl, they say. 

And, for sure, you don't want to face the consequences of your insubordination. So you slowly take the fork, not glancing away for one second, your eyes into hers. You are looking at every detail of her expression as if it would change, telling you that it is a trap, except it doesn't and her expression stays stern. It is impossible to read anything on her face, not even a hint of how she is feeling.

You take the first bit, carefully swallowing and… nothing happens. You don't feel weird, it doesn't taste bad and she doesn't snap at you for a small imaginary mistake you would have made. It is the complete opposite. The food is really good, melting on your tongue, and you start to eat quickly, not because you have to, but because you want to. For the first time in years, eating is a pleasure. 

She sighed when she noticed that you were inhaling your food, but she didn't say anything; she will have all the time later to change that habit of you. So she just stood there for a few seconds, observing you in silence, with her arms crossed, before sitting next to you - that's when you broke eye contact, once she was sure you would eat everything. 

As you are eating, she is barely paying attention to you, at least that's the impression she is giving. One of her arms wrapped around your shoulder, her hand is absently drawing circles on your skin while she is on her phone, dealing with something serious - you can hear her frustrated sighs from time to time.

Except she sees everything and your mistake was to not be careful enough around the woman. A little because of your clumsiness, mainly because of how fast you were eating, you dropped a bit of your food on the floor. You didn't think it was a big deal, picking it up to put it back on the plate. Three seconds rules, dropped on a clean floor, you don't have very high standards anyway - but she does. She turned to you the moment she felt you were moving, a curious, but disgusted, look on her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her hand grabbing your wrist before you could drop the bit of food on your plate. She moves your hand on the side of the tray, far from your plate, before you even get a chance to reply. "Drop it," she ordered to you, "that's gross, hope you weren't going to eat that." 

You shake your head, too scared to do anything else, but she knows you are lying; of course you were about to eat it. You spent the past years living like a fighting dog, you would eat anything she would give you, you might even eat directly from the dirty floor if she asked you to. She winces in disgust, not letting your hand go.

"Give me that," she snarled and you can feel how her grip tightened on your wrist to force you to give the fork away.

She then takes the tray that was in front of you to put it on her side of the bed, you are looking at her, scared she would definitely take your meal away. You are about to protest when she notices it and glances at you, daring you to say a word, you don't. 

"Come here," she said, gesturing you to come closer, she even grabbed your arm to guide you when she noticed you were hesitant to move.

She sits you between her legs and you are clearly uncomfortable, wiggling, but if she notices it, she doesn't seem to care. She is so close to you that you can feel her breath tickling your skin, but she keeps acting like nothing is weird here. When she leans to cut your food, you can feel her chest pressing against your back, the contact making your heart races. Too focused on how close you are to the woman, you barely noticed when she approached the fork from your mouth, waiting for you to open. It takes one more second for you to understand what she is waiting for and, when you do, you blush in embarrassment. She takes advantage of you opening your mouth to say something to feed you, and you don't dare to push her away. 

"Can't even eat alone, hm?" she whispered in your ear while you were chewing the bit of food she just gave you, "but that's fine, I am here now," she added, and there is something in her tone that makes you shiver.

Once she made sure you ate everything, she wrapped her arms around you, laying a kiss on your temple. It is strange how safe you are feeling in her embrace: for a few seconds you forget she is the one that beat you earlier. Right now, she is just someone that cares for you, with whom you feel at peace. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel that way, you can barely remember your life before entering the human trafficking circuit.

You don’t really know when you fell asleep, but your eyes were quick to close under the effects of her fingers running on your hair and of her voice whispering sweet words in your ears. At some point, a maid came to take the empty tray away and the woman layed the both of you in the bed, under the covers, trying her best to not wake you up. This night, you slept in a comfy bed, feeling protected in the arms of the woman despite the things she did, not even thinking one second about pushing away her hands that found their way under your sweatshirt, resting on your stomach. 

The Dog fell right into the Black Widow’s web.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Smutober day 6: Oliver Queen x Male!reader - Paradise

It wasn't easy to convince Oliver to go on a vacation but Roy ensured him that star city was safe in his hands and that the two of you deserved to go away for a few days.

You land in the Bahamas and check into your hotel, the concierge showing you to your suite with an incredible view of the ocean.

“Welcome to paradise Mr. Queen and Mr. Y/L/N,” he says, “and if you need anything at all you can always reach us at the front desk.”

Your husband thanks him and when he leaves Oliver throws his bag on the chair, “maybe we shouldn't unpack very much, you know if Roy calls and we need to get back home quickly.”

You set your own bag down and throw your arms around his neck, “Ollie, this is our first vacation since our honeymoon three years ago, you need to relax.”

“I know I'm sorry, I haven't relaxed in so long I think I forgot how,” he chuckles.

“Let's go get dinner and take a walk on the beach that'll surely help,” you suggest.

“There's also something else that I think will help me relax,” he teases.

“Oh we will definitely get to that later but I'm starving after traveling all day so that has to wait,” you laugh, kissing him sweetly.

You and Oliver grab a nice dinner at a nearby restaurant before taking a stroll on the beach.

The sun is setting and there's plenty of other couples taking in the romantic scenery as well.

The waves are crashing against the shore and Oliver stops walking, putting his arms around your waist and easily picking you up to spin you around.

“Ollie,” you laugh, kissing him while he holds you in his arms.

“This place really is paradise isn't it,” he smiles into the kiss.

“I love you Oliver Queen,” you tell him.

“I love you too Y/N now are you ready to go back to the room and really get this vacation started?” He asks.

“Absolutely.”

Back in the room Oliver throws you onto the bed, taking his shirt off while you do the same.

He climbs on top of you, kissing you while your hands roam his body, tracing all his scars and with a few minutes of making out later you're both completely naked.

“Do you want to top or do you want me to top?” He questions.

“Please fuck me,” you sigh, rocking your hips up into his to rub your cocks together.

You and Oliver still had a very active sex life but due to your very active civilian lives and very active secret superhero lives you didn't often have the energy for nights of pure passion like this.

He smiles and sticks one of his fingers in his mouth, coating it in saliva before lubing your hole with it.

You groan when he slips his finger inside, stretching you out.

“Oliver,” you moan as he pumps it slowly, “I need more.”

“Are you ready for me my love?” He grins and you eagerly nod.

He removes his finger and raises your hips in the air, lining up his cock and gently pushing the tip inside.

“Oh yes,” you moan as he slides in a couple more inches giving you a moment to adjust to him.

Your cock twitches when he starts rolling his hips, Oliver enjoying the way your breathing becomes labored.

Eventually he finds a steady rhythm that makes you grasp at the pillows beneath you, your eyes instinctively shutting but then he tells you, “look at me Y/N, I want you to watch me fuck you.”

God he was so hot.

You open your eyes again, staring into his as he skillfully thrusts into you.

Oliver is smirking proudly, your stomach clenching as you get closer to your release.

“Ollie I'm gonna cum,” you tell him and he picks up the pace, fully shaking the bed now from how fast he is moving.

You reach down and begin to stroke yourself and about a minute later you are cumming all over your stomach.

When you finish Oliver pulls out of you and lays your lower half back on the bed and begins to jerk himself off.

“Oh fuck,” he groans when cum starts shooting out of his cock and mixes with yours on your stomach.

He leans down and licks your stomach clean, some of the cum getting in his beard but he doesn't care.

He gives you a moment to recover before getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom where you can hear him turn on the shower.

“You think you could stand long enough for a quick shower?” He chuckles.

“You may have to hold me,” you tease, sitting up in the bed.

“I would hold you and never let go if I could,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you.

The next three days you and Oliver barely leave your hotel room not only was it the first time in a long time the two of you could catch up on sleep but it was the first time in a long time you were able to have hours upon hours of uninterrupted sex.

When you make it back to Star city Roy asks how the vacation was and all Oliver could respond with was, “it was paradise.”

[where-dreamers-go]

hi!!! I’m obsessed with your connor writings ♡ so I was thinking if its okay if I request some hurt/comfort with connor and fem!reader who has kinda low opinion (both looks and personality) on herself and always put other people first and rarely think about her own comfort and feelings :( this is very self-indulgent so I’m sorry for that and you’re absolutely free to ignore this! thank you and have an amazing day <33

“Understand” Rk800 Connor x Reader

(A/N: Thank you for your request! It’s self-indulgent for us both, then. Caring for oneself takes work sometimes, lots of practice. But Connor is here!!! Warnings: minor angst, use of (Y/N) for your name Word Count: 721 words)

Weekends were looked forward to by many. The end of the work week for some people. Also a day to visit others to a number of people.

Late into the afternoon, you had finished your visits and social obligations for the day.

Not yet home, you sat outside on a city bench. The day’s activities weighing you down. Muscles in your arms and even your face tried to relax. You hoped a bit of fresh air could help.

For the first time in over five hours, you had time for yourself. Quiet and stillness in your personal space. Nothing left for you to do for other. Hopefully, for the rest of the day if you were lucky.

In your mind, your thoughts zipped between one past conversation to another and any action weaved throughout. However loud, you knew eventually you would work through the thoughts and memories until you could return to your regular streams of thoughts. You just needed some time.

You exhaled slowly.

I really don’t want them to call me later, you thought as you watched some birds squawk at one another. They talked…the whole time.

A light breeze tickled your skin, but you didn’t mind nor move. It was nature not a family member ‘asking’ you to do something.

“(Y/N)?”

With a mild startle, you turned to see your friend, Connor, standing with his LED spinning yellow.

“Connor? Hi, what are yo— OH!”

I completely forgot.

“Are you all right?” Connor asked. “We were supposed to meet an hour ago.”

“I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. I was with my family and being around them,” you took a breath, “it’s hard to think straight.”

“It’s all right,” Connor said more calmly than his words a few moments ago. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“Don’t know.” You huffed.

At that, Connor joined you on the bench.

“It’s just…been a day. I’m tired.”

“You visited some family today. Was it a party?”

“No,” you stretched your neck and added, “I ended up helping with the TV, phone settings, a laundry issue, and rearranging furniture. Multiple times. It was… They just kind of decided on it since I was there too. And I helped.”

“You moved furniture? (Y/N), you had put in a full week of work.”

“I know.” You couldn’t look at your friend. “I just did it. They needed help.”

“Weren’t other people there? You didn’t have to do everything.”

You nodded.

“Did you want to do all of those tasks?”

“No, but that doesn’t really matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because they needed those things done.”

Connor placed his hand on your shoulder, offering a type of warmth you had been neglected for a while. A gesture you denied yourself and he knew. Of course Connor knew.

He needs to understand that’s just how it is, you thought. They tell you to do something or ask whatever and you do it. That’s it. Either you do it or you can’t.

“It’s not a choice, Connor. If I didn’t help them, wouldn’t that make me lazy or rude? I’d never hear the end of it. And…they needed help.”

You looked over to your friend. Brown eyes stared back at you.

“(Y/N), it’s not wrong to step aside to allow other people to help. You don’t have to do everything for others. In fact, it’s impossible for you to always help someone especially if you’re uncomfortable or are not well.”

“But…”

He shook his head, a sad expression on his charming face. “No. I’ve all ready seen you overwork yourself. It isn’t healthy. You know, don’t you?”

Shoulders slumping, you leaned into your friend.

“I’m tired.”

Connor wrapped his arm around you and let you rest into his side. “You don’t have to do anything right now. We can sit here for as long as you want.”

Pressing your lips in a thin line, you suppressed the tears trying to escape. Too tired to discuss how right Connor was and too grateful to have Connor as a caring friend.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you practice taking your own needs first, when appropriate, please?”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask. You can be happy too.”

Smiling, you wrapped your arms around Connor’s middle and took the first step in thinking about your own comfort.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Detroit Become Human Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[just-some-user-hunny]

Even more pinocchio headcanons...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~

~ his legion arm is sturdy and strong, the way it never buckles beneath any weight, nor the resilience of flying speaks flying off its steel surface whenever he grinds the sharp blade of his weapon against it. He can punch through gates and tear off doors from their hinges like they were mere tissue paper.

But pino is a balance of strength and softness. With each little mechanical click of his knuckles and fingers, they drag softly down the silky expanse of your arm, down the surface of your wrist, and oh so gently into your hand for a an embrace of flesh and metal.

The intricate grooves of his palm are alike to your own rugged delicate markings, the contrast stark but filled with such a strong sense of belonging.

It's the way he reaches to touch your cheek that serves as a reminder of his uniqueness from other puppets. His fingertips are cold, almost ice cold against the warm flesh of your face, but the chill is a comforting presense. That within this bloodthirsty world, you have a protector. One that would do anything to keep you safe.

~ it is not uncommon to wake up with your hand cradled in pino's as he's sat on the floor by your bed. Pino misses you when you're sleeping, so when he wants to spend time with you this is the next best thing, just being in your presence is enough for him. The lack of the sound of your voice is made up by your soft breaths and relaxed expression.

~ continueing the whole clingy Pino thing, he would most definitely join you when you're taking a bath because he wants to be with you as much as possible whenever he isn't fighting. Of course, he's very respectful and turns away from you when you're sat unclothed in the tub of bubbles, and he merely sits on the floor besides you holding your warm soapy hand. His back with be pressed against the porcelain, fiddling with your fingers as he listens to you talk about anything. It's all very chill and relaxing.

Also he makes the funniest face when you dab a scoop of foamy bubbles on his forehead or nose. His face screws up rather confused, but chuckles softly anyway when he hears your playful giggles.

(Thanks anon for suggesting this idea!)

~ just Pino and you dancing slowly to an old record he found in one of the hotel rooms.

He had seen posters and illustrations of dancing people in the city of Krat plastered on walls and shop windows, and grew very curious of it.

You'd have to guide him a little, teaching him to bow and ask for a dance. Just sweet relaxed banter between you two as you attempt to lead him into a dance, guiding him to hold your waist and hand. He's a little clumsy at first, almost tripping you with a misstepped footing, but like everything he does he learns quickly. Soon enough he'll have you clasped to his front and spinning around the room, your giggles and his silent chuckles filling the silence.

Eventually your energy wears off, and you both slow dance to the soft crackling tune. Your head on his chest, and his hands on your waist, the two of you swaying side to side gently. He could spend hours doing this with you.

~ he's very polite, and will do things like open doors for you. However this can go from sweet to hilarious. One time you were struggling to open your drawer cabinet, and he pretty much tore it off its hinges. The both of you stood in absolute silence as you stared at the broken door clasped in his grip. The poor man gazed at you a little worried before you laughed softly at his antics, easing his nerves.

~ due to him not speaking all that much, and most of the time not at all, I can imagine it being useful to teach him a few simple sign language phrases. He'd listen and mimic your moves very carefully, copying your movements.

"this is how you would say thank you" you'd say softly, your fingertips brushing over your lips before extending your palm to him. His gaze focuses on your lips a little too much before he snaps out of it and copies 😅.

Now whenever you hand him something or speak comforting words, you'll be met with him bowing his head a little to gesture his thanks to you. He looks so proud every time he does it as well.

~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~

[souperbloom]

oh, honey! [A.I.]

roadie!reader x Ashton Irwin

the sequel to the coveted ‘being in love’

a/n: you guys asked, so i delivered. i’m so glad you guys love being-in-love-shton as much as i do. he’ll always have a special place in my heart. huge day for souperbloom nation i can’t believe i finished this.

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut!, angst, very angry reader, semi-public nefarious activities, shit that’ll make your heart race, pet names, fingering (f!receiving), choking, lots n lots of dirty talk, smart mouth ash (as always), lots of inner turmoil but also how could you be mad at that face? once again, i went overboard but how could i not with being in love!ash ????

WORDCOUNT: ~6.7k

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There was no way in hell.

You were surely going crazy. Another month of that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach?

Not a fucking chance.

It was early September now, and tour was in full swing. You had traveled to eight more cities, and yet nothing felt right.

Eight incredible shows, eight smooth rehearsals, eight company meetings— since that one fateful night.

Your mind was in work mode, sure. And your physical being was somewhere in the midwest— but that passion you found in your work, and the love you felt from putting on a show.

It was missing.

Your heart was still in New York.

The clipboard in your lap was barking at you, reading cues and call times, as you flip a pencil between your index and middle finger.

It was so quiet backstage. It always was. Especially before the arrival of the band. You always ended up curled up on a loveseat in one of their dressing rooms, one dressing room in particular, before you were eventually ushered away to start running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off.

"We need road crew on stage."

You took advantage of the moments like these. The measly little moments in which you got to be alone with yourself.

Moments where your mind wasn’t so damn loud.

"Y/N, where are you?"

Your eyes scanned down your perfectly crafted schedule, reading it for the millionth time over and ignoring the crackling call of your name through your headset.

"Y/N, we need you on stage!"

With a huff, you roll your eyes, smacking your pencil down onto the clipboard and using that free hand to push the button down on your headset.

"Fuck, alright! I’m coming, I’m coming!"

The walk down the hallway lined with doors hadn’t felt the same since that night in New York. Something you were usually so comfortable with had turned into a feeling of a racing heart and a spinning head.

You never knew who you’d run into. Who’d be walking down this same corridor at exactly the right moment.

It was all a waiting game.

"There you are! Did you not hear me calling your name forty times?!" Your manager starts yapping the moment you step foot onto the stage, but you just ignore him. Your mind was too preoccupied with that sinking, impending doom.

"I heard it, don’t give me shit. I’ve had a rough day."

You slowly start to make your way across the stage, ducking your head down and trying to ignore the set-up of that pearly green drum kit; the one that liked to taunt you every time you were around it. In fact, his drum kit being the first piece of equipment to be set up on stage felt like some sort of sick joke. Just looking at it made your stomach turn.

Whether the drummer was behind it, or not.

All of the sound equipment was just about perfect in its places when suddenly, you hear a familiar commotion of voices from the opposite side of the stage, towards the outside door.

"Band’s here," your manager deadpans, barely lifting his head up from the clipboard he was writing on.

Those two words sent an unshakable chill down your spine. You knew better than anybody what those two words meant for you, but whether or not you wanted to acknowledge the grip they had on your conscience was something you’d toy with all too often.

"Can somebody go help them unload?" Your manager scans the stage towards the crew, his eyes stopping directly onto yours, "You. Miss “Rough Day”— Go."

He shoos you away with his hand, nose still buried deep into whatever the fuck he was writing down. So, of course, as a good roadie should, you listened. Trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts about inevitably being called that nickname that makes your stomach twist in knots.

Or, about how that nickname sounded in your ears while being fucked against a bathroom counter, only few nights ago.

The silence was louder than anything you’d ever heard, walking down the empty halls to the outside door. You were sure there was some sort of dog whistle that only you could hear, ringing incessantly and telling you that whatever feelings you choked down on that rooftop was just your mind playing tricks on you.

Duh, you never said anything at all. Ashton didn’t know a damn thing.

Unless he was wise enough to piece everything together.

Or maybe, he was a mind reader.

The midwestern sun was scorching, brutal enough to make you feel as though you were getting sunburnt just by walking out into it. There was no sign of a breeze, not a single cloud in the sky. It was a considerably perfect day.

Yeah, a perfect day to lose your fucking mind.

You stepped out into the parking lot, which was already stock full of vans and crew; all of them running around and lugging out bags like the Queen was in town.

You weren’t entirely sure why you were sent out here in the first place. The band’s personal crew seemed to have everything under control, and there was nothing more for you to do besides stand as you were and look pretty.

Surely that’s what he wanted, though, wasn’t it?

"Y/N!"

A familiar voice scares you out of whatever lamppost you were blankly staring into; as precaution to avoid making eye contact with anyone of distaste.

"Oh, hey Luke."

Luke takes long strides towards you, the t-shirt on his back clinging to his slick skin that had already began producing sweat the moment he stepped off the bus. You try your hand at smiling; but you weren’t sure if it read more as an ‘uncomfortable yearbook photo’.

"She’s a scorcher today, isn’t she?" Luke comments, taking the back of his hand to wipe a droplet of sweat off his forehead before adjusting the strap of his guitar case.

You look down at his attire and compare it to yours with a scowl. He was prepped for the weather with thin basketball shorts and the aforementioned t-shirt; yet you opted for your usual uniform. A pair of black jeans and the black CREW tee. You swore you owned a million of these things; in every color of the rainbow.

Not like you paid any mind to the weather channel today. You had other things on your mind.

"The sun? Yeah, tell me about it. It’s fuckin’ brutal out here."

"Yeah... ‘Been out here for like, five minutes and I’m already sweating buckets."

You nod slowly, your eyes sneakily wandering behind Luke’s head as this attempt at small talk was making you more antsy than before. There’s a brief awkward silence that falls between you and the singer; one that was definitely more obvious than you’d thought.

"Well, I don’t mean to distract you. Go do your job, or— whatever. I’ll see you backstage, right?"

"Huh?" Your gaze whips back to meet him, cheeks flushing red, "Oh, yeah. Of course. I’ll see ya’."

Luke flashes you a froggy smile before spinning on his heel to walk away, making you cringe at how mortifying that exchange was.

Your heart wasn’t the only thing stuck on that rooftop in New York. Your charm had ran along right with it.

You couldn’t bear standing out in the sun for any longer; practically cooking like a fried egg in a pan with your entirely black outfit. It was in your best interest to head back inside, and you knew that. But something was keeping your boots nailed to the concrete.

A gut feeling.

The people move around you, but you stay still, occasionally catching their eyes and sparing them a meek smile. There was no sign of that pair of sparkling jade irises that you were hoping for.

Not until the moment you turned around.

"What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here in this hellish heat?"

Almost as if it were some sort of cue, Ashton appears. Out of thin air. You swore he wasn’t there just a moment ago. Then again, you also swore you knew a lot more about yourself than you actually do.

"My job," you reply, plainly. As if his presence wasn’t effecting you in the slightest.

"I can tell… Really puttin’ in the work just standing there n’ looking cute…. ain’t ‘ya honey?"

A rumble of nerves roll down your spine as soon as the word leaves his lips.

Honey.

The nickname, although endearing, never failed to drive you up the walls. No matter the context.

"Standing and looking cute is at the top of my resume. It’s what landed me the roadie spot, actually."

Ashton nods at your blunt sarcasm, an eyebrow raised in intrigue as his confidence bounces off of your shoulders. You pause for a moment to take in his appearance, speaking on the fact that each time you looked in his direction lead you to deafening heart palpitations.

His reddened, sun-kissed cheeks were adorned with sunglasses, resting beneath a netted trucker hat which allowed his chestnut-honey-blonde curls to peek out from beneath the brim. His broad chest was complimented by a worn Def Leppard tee, which he had taken the liberty of sloppily hacking off its sleeves to make it into a tank top.

He looked ravishing, as always. It was hard to look away. But you knew in your mind that he was ogling at you with similar intentions.

It was always so fucking obvious.

"Hey," Ashton breaks the silent stare-down, "I forgot some shit back in the van… Mind waitin’ up for me?"

You stutter for a moment, tugging at the hem of your t-shirt, "Uh, yeah. I don’t mind. I’ll be right here."

His face morphs into a small smile as he holds up his hands, "Don’t move an inch. I’ll be riiiiight back."

It was hard to bite back your giddy smile as Ashton scurried towards the van, holding onto the top of his hat as he jogged away.

You felt so dumb, waiting up for him. Dumb was the only word to describe it. Absolutely smitten. Lovesick. Just fucking dumb.

Then again, the entire situation was dumb. And quite frankly, you were tired of feeling that way.

"Got it," Ashton returns, holding up a single pair of drum sticks.

"Don’t tell me you ran all the way back over there just to grab one pair of fuckin’ sticks."

The two of you start to walk as Ashton brushes off your scrutiny. "This isn’t just any pair of sticks. These are my lucky sticks. I use ‘em to warm up. Gives me an extra boost before each show."

You cross your arms, feeling oddly small next to his towering stature.

"Sure. Whatever you say, Ashton."

"Don’t sass me. I don’t like that shit," he frowns disingenuously, sliding in front of you to hold the door open for you, "But then again, I do love it when you say my name."

It was getting harder now to fight the urges inside of you. The itches begging to be scratched by the only person who knew exactly where to reach.

Once you both entered the backstage area, your mind began to race with all the thoughts that had been plaguing you since the moment you locked eyes with him in the parking lot.

How long until soundcheck? Where’s the nearest exit? How fast could the two of you get undressed and get this shit over with?

"You should put your stuff down," you say to him calmly, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

Ashton stops short in front of one of the dressing rooms, readjusting the strap of his bag. A wicked smirk sprawls across his cheeks as his eyes flick down to your lips.

"How about you stop worrying about me, and start worrying about that pretty head on your shoulders. Looks like it’s about to fuckin’ pop."

You roll your lips inwards, feeling yourself take a self-conscious step back as he subtly leans in closer. He gazes at you, oddly softly.

"My head’s fine," you reply, "Worrying is my job."

"Is that so?" Ashton’s quick quip has you stumbling back further, to the point where you’re backed completely against the wall. He towers over you, to no surprise, before anchoring a subtle hand on your waist.

The touch alone sends a shock wave through your body. You felt frozen in time. Frozen in this moment. He ducks down to whisper into your ear, lips barely grazing your cheekbone.

"If it’s your job to stress n’ worry, I’d say I could help with that, at least a little bit. Don’t you agree?"

You swallow hard before replying. Damn you.

"I— I suppose."

"Good," you could practically feel his menacing smile against your skin, "Bathroom. Ten minutes."

A desperate sigh barely escapes your larynx as he draws his gaze back into yours. Your eyes go doe, yet his intensity never falters.

In a shoddy attempt at pushing him away, you place your palms flat against his chest. But he just gazes at your fingertips in amusement, before scooping up your hands, and placing a tender kiss onto your knuckles.

"Don’t be late."

You weren’t sure how much time had passed while you stood in the same spot, right where he had left you. But as soon as you’d noticed that he had rounded the corner towards the wings, you hit the ground running.

The beating of your heart was traveling up to your throat as you stalked the halls in your squeaky old boots, completely oblivious to your surroundings. You were one track minded, to put it simply. And running was super embarrassing.

But who really cares?

You skidded to a stop in front of the bathroom door, latching onto the handle and shaking it to ensure your privacy.

"Anyone in there?" You shout, your voice weakening.

To your relief, nobody replied, so your first order of business was to body slam the door open and lock it behind you.

A sigh tumbles past your lips the moment your back presses against the steel clad restroom door. You couldn’t bear to look in the mirror, to see how much of a disheveled mess you’d become from standing in the hot sun, combined with the frenzied actions that lead you into this bathroom.

Your foot tapped impatiently against the tiles, occasionally checking your watch while you continued to second guess how many minutes was exactly ten of them.

But as you spiral on behalf of the hands on the clock, you hear a quadruple knock at the bathroom door. It was disembodied, no voice behind it asking if it was occupied, nobody wondering if it was you.

You knew what that knock meant.

It was fucking game time.

With a collective breath, you spin around, hastily undoing the lock and cracking open the door.

First, you see the trucker hat. Then, the golden chains. The sunglasses discarded and hanging on the collar of his shirt and the tattooed biceps that accompanied the lack of sleeves.

"Mind if I come in?"

"What’s the password?"

There’s a brief pause from behind the door, followed by a quiet chuckle.

"The password is: let me the fuck in, honey girl."

The door swings open and suddenly you’re stumbling back. You’ve lost all control of your movements and Ashton was finally holding you up by the strings. Like a sad little puppet.

As the door slams shut behind the commotion of Ashton pressing you up against the bathroom wall, all you could think about was how the echo of it slamming was about to make the ringing in your ears much, much worse.

You don’t even get a moment to process how quickly these events were unfolding, before Ashton’s hands are cradling your waist and his stubble is rubbing against your jawline as he nips gently at your neck.

"Been thinkin’ about you," he murmurs, followed by a trill of goosebumps running down your spine.

"Have you really?"

"Mhmmmm." His satisfied hum leads you to give into whatever was holding you back. Your fingers tangle into the hair at the base of his neck, sliding up to knock the hat off of his head and run through his unruly curls.

“Gonna prove it?”

The words fall short coming out of your mouth, said with the least confidence you’d ever felt in your life, but you hadn’t the soul in you to care. His lips were running rampant towards the neckline of your t-shirt and the only thing you could think about now was how soft they felt.

“M’gettin’ there, yeh,” Ashton bumbles, the stubble on his upper lip brushing against you as he smiles into your skin, “You’re talkative today, aren’t you?”

Your face falls flat, thrown off guard by that snide comment, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

It was moments like these that had you questioning whatever the hell was going on in that thick skull of his; you couldn’t tell whether or not to feel used, flattered by the fact that he’d noticed something off about your character, or just plain offended.

His head pops up when he feels your body freeze, hands dropping off of your hips to cup your cheeks and force your eyes into his. “Nothin’ bad, honey. You just— don’t usually do the talking around here. Thought that was reserved for the ‘blabbermouth’.”

You could feel your jaw tense when the calluses on his palms caress your cheekbones, awfully flushed by his condescending tone yet still enjoying it nonetheless. He was referring to the one single time where you snapped, and told him he talked too much. In which he then proceeded to hold onto that statement for a week, and remind you of it every chance he could.

“So what if I wanna talk? Not like you listen to me anyway.”

Ashton’s face drops lightly, a twinge of a smile still left beneath the outgrown stubble gracing his jaw. His broad palms still cupped your face, your words that oozed ambiguity giving him all the means to squeeze your cheeks together until your lips pursed.

“Oh c’mon, you don’t mean that. Do you really think I don’t listen to you?”

His thumb brushes against your top lip, still squashed between his hands, “Doesn’t seem like it, no.”

“Honey, as long as words are falling from those pretty lips, I’m all fuckin’ ears.”

Jesus.

You couldn’t stand to entertain whatever this weird, poetic drabble was about, it was getting you oddly worked up and now, your time left in this bathroom was at the mercy of the poet himself.

“No reply? Damn, I worked hard on that one,” Ashton says with utmost seriousness, taking his hands from your cheeks and moving them back to their original position on your waist, “To think I’ve wasted some of my best material just to bomb my set.”

For some reason, the typical witty remarks that you’d grown so accustomed to were making you seethe. A characteristic that was so unapologetically’ ‘Ashton’ left you feeling like there was an anchor tied around your neck.

You swore you’d loved everything about him. Maybe your manifestations of these feelings one day disappearing were finally coming true.

“Ash, can we just get this moving? My boss is already on my ass about running late from earlier and I just—”

“—Your boss, huh?” his head tilts to the side, his towering frame reinstating its power in this given moment, and your inner monologue from before becoming null and void, “And here I am thinking I was your boss.”

Okay, now you just wanted to reach up and wring out his neck.

“You know what I meant, dickhead. Y’know the guy who runs around with a big headset and bitches me out because your dumbass decided to run off and go missing 5 minutes before curtains? That’s my boss.”

Ashton chuckles, although you can’t quite place the tone, “So then— what does that make me?”

Your jaw ticks again, fighting everything inside of you to shut him up with either a kiss or a sucker punch.

“You don’t even wanna’ know what I think you are, Ashton.”

Something about that comment dropped the tension from between your bodies, Ashton’s steel-faced gaze suddenly disappearing and leaving you practically cross eyed whilst he slammed his lips against yours. You melt into him, albeit a bit sheepishly, letting his tongue roam your mouth and taste every inch that he’d been torn from while you were speaking.

“Like when you’re mean t’ me,” his words knock against your bottom lip before he’s sinking his teeth down into it, “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

“Just— shut up. Please.” you retort, pressing the front of your body against his torso and rolling your hips to get a semblance of the feeling of him.

“Is somebody mad at me?” He pops up for a millionth time, although you really wished he’d just shove his tongue down your throat instead.

“No.”

“Is there something that you’re not telling me, hm?” There was that bullshit, devil-may-care attitude again. Coming right back around to bite you.

“No.”

You stand your ground, trying to fight the invasive thoughts of telling him everything you truly felt. The good, bad, and ugly.

“I have a feeling you may be lying but, I won’t pry. Unless— that meant I’d make you angry. You’re sexy when you’re mad at me.”

Ashton’s hands had wandered beneath your t-shirt, now traversing the soft flesh of your torso while he continued to poke every single goddamn one of your buttons.

“So, I’m not sexy all the time?” you try to earn back your playful crown.

“‘Never said that. But, I’ll admit you’re at your sexiest when you look like you want to crack me in the jaw.”

Unable to argue, you shrug, still ticked off by his pestering yet just about ready to tear the already hacked up shirt off of his back. You kiss him again, a bit more forcefully this time, hoping things would stay that way.

A moan rips through your throat when his grip on you tightens, unable to control the volume of your noises yet still, not finding it in you to care. After holding you hostage against the cool bathroom tiles for the entirety of this exchange, he slowly began to back you away from it.

A blind stumble leads you, Ashton, and your ass straight to the lip of the countertop. He used his strength against your limp body to hoist you up onto it, giving you a nice perch and an even nicer slot for him to slide between your legs.

“So good for me, my girl,” Ashton coos, his lips still practically in your mouth, “Always knows exactly what to do for me.”

My girl.

“Your girl?”

The moment freezes. With Ashton tucked between your legs and the back pockets of your jeans damp from being sat on the sink. “What was that?” he asks, still a bit drunk on the taste of your lips.

“You just called me your girl.”

“I did say that, didn’t I? Don’t I always?”

You raise an eyebrow, debating biting your tongue and pretending like you didn’t let your inner monologue slip into your reality, “Well, yeah.”

“And— you’re my girl, aren’t you?”

The way his sweaty curls flopped into those dumb green eyes made them shimmer even more, you were starting to get pissed off simply by his existence. The taunting, the teasing, the ‘making you feel worthless without really even trying’, it was becoming too much to bear.

The cord that held up your heart strings and any last bit of patience you possessed had finally fucking snapped.

“Y’know what, Ash— how about you tell me? Am I really your girl?”

A low chuckle takes up the empty space left behind your pressing question, Ashton’s hands now restless against your hip bone as his eyes searched your face for something to say.

“Is that what this is? Why you’re so mad at me? C’mon, honey girl. Don’t do this t’me right now.”

“Do what to you? Ask a question?” your words bite, and they bite hard, “Don’t you think this is all a little unfair?”

Ashton’s jaw twitches. You’d never seen his face drop so quickly from that shit-eating grin but low and behold, you seemed to have struck a nerve. Maybe even a few nerves. His hands fall from your hips, although still inches away from your face as he huffs through his nose in frustration.

“We can have this conversation another time.”

“Ashton, I don’t think there’ll be another time. Not if you keep pulling this stupid, elusive bullshit—”

“Y/N, please—” His voice gets weaker as he cuts you off, you could practically feel him trembling.

“No. I’m tired of this shit dude! I’m tired of feeling like there’s no end in sight when it comes to you. You string me along like your gross little puppet— Don’t you ever feel sorry? For me? For yourself? God, do you feel anything at all?!”

Your throat began to burn up, that awful chest pain closing in on you as tears begin pricking at your lower lash line. God, please don’t cry, you thought, please don’t fucking cry.

“I can promise you, I feel things. Please— don’t paint me as heartless.”

He reattaches his hands to you, like a moth to a flame. His touch reignites that fuzzy feeling you get whenever he’s around and you’d just wished for even a second it would go away. But as you’d said, finally vocalized out to the man who keeps you up at night:

There really was no end in sight.

“I’m tired, Ash. Tired of feeling so fucking— used.”

As though you’d lost control of your senses, your hand finds its way to his curls. Those curls you love to tug, and play with. To inhale and exhale on the rare occasion that he lays on your chest to listen to the sound of your heartbeat. The thought of him was intoxicating, despite the fiery red fury you’d just unleashed into his now sad, glassy eyes.

You’d hoped you didn’t ruin the moment, because you were now afraid it’d be the last.

“It’s complicated.”

That was it?

That was all he had to say for himself?

“Are you fucking serious?” you bite, those words hurting more than any pain you’d ever felt in your life.

“Just— give me some time. Please? If you give me time I promise, I’ll have a better answer for you.”

“Time’s a fucking illusion with you. I’ve given you all the time in the goddamn world, Ashton. Y’know what— fuck this. I’m leaving—”

Before you could even attempt to slide off of the countertop, his arms stiffen before your boots reach the floor. He holds you between his hands with force, digging his fingertips into that soft skin on your waist.

“Honey,” the nickname drips with persuasion, “don’t get yourself all worked up now. You’ve had a rough enough day already.”

Ashton manages to prop you back onto the counter, after using enough force to keep you in his arms. It was painfully clear that he didn’t want you to leave, and if you’d really wanted to, you would’ve.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mutter, the end of your sentence cut short by his hands moving down to your ass and pulling you into him. Your gaze was now glued to the floor, unable to face those stupid eyes that look like the forest and feel like home.

“You don’t mean that.”

His tone is sharp, but you double down. “Yes, I do.”

Before you could even exhale, Ashton grabs your chin between two fingers, forcing you to look back into his own. You tremble between his fingertips, bottom lip quivering like a desperate, desperate mess.

“If that’s how you really feel— look at me and say it again.”

Although you’d seemed to have lost your senses when it came to Ashton months ago, right now was no exception. You couldn’t control just how quickly your lips reattached to his, let alone how mindlessly you had begun feeling up his broad shoulders and taut back like they were the last two things you’d ever touch.

He groans into your mouth and it’s like music to your ears, ringing true like church bells and finally earning back those weakening heart palpitations.

“God fuckin’— dammit—“ you curse out in frustration; Ashton’s wide, calloused hands snaking beneath your shirt and squeezing the soft sides of your hips.

“Baby, move with me,” he orders, pulling you off of the counter while your lips are still attached. Of course, you oblige. No questions asked.

As your tongues tangle sweetly in that rough, frenzied kiss, Ashton is positioning your limp body around like there was no tomorrow. His hands moved from your shoulders, to the small of your back, all the way down to the pockets of your jeans; where his slender fingers staked claim before he was whipping you around to face the mirror.

A gasp escapes your chest when you catch your own reflection, having been ripped away from such a heated moment. You felt as though you were even more disheveled than you were angry, just a few moments ago.

“Look at how beautiful you are, honey,” Ashton coos into the mirror, his hands plastered to your waist as he stoops over your shoulder.

“Mhmmm.” There was no room left in your right mind for words so, sounds should do just fine.

“Want you t’ watch,” he begins, along with his hands that had started their journey of lifting your t-shirt to expose your midriff, “Look how fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You do as you’re instructed, watching how your lips part and your face falls flush when Ashton moves in on your breasts. He massages them gently over your bra, squeezing them before trailing blistered fingers down your stomach to the waistband of your jeans.

“Pretty like a painting,” he taunts, fiddling with your button before popping it open and unzipping the fly, “‘Could do this all day.”

A smile sneaks out of you, but is immediately wiped away when he starts to tease just below your navel. Soft whines slowly begin to float past your lips and right into Ashton’s ears as he traces lines across your skin— he was nodding to the rhythm of your voice.

“Ashton—” you squeeze out, but his mouth is preoccupied by the sensitive spot on your neck that drove the both of you wild.

He hums in delight, “Sounds s’ pretty when you say my name.”

You could barely stand the teasing but he seemed to read your mind; Ashton was never one to keep you waiting. He takes his hand and slowly pushes it down into your underwear, taking his index finger and dragging it up your slit. You wince at the sudden contact; how aroused he’d made you by merely teasing and feathery touches.

“God, so fuckin’ wet for me— already?”

It was virtually impossible to pull your eyes away from the obscenities that were happening below your waist. You attempted to snap back at him, maybe even slip in a little nasty comment about how you were still angry at his dumb face and stupid green eyes. But as his fingers stretched and curled, sending shockwaves through your entire body, the most you could do was slump backwards. Right into his arms.

“Oh my God,” you manage to weasel out the words lodged behind your tongue, that index finger of his working magic and making circles around your sensitive bud.

Your eyelids were getting heavy now, overstimulated by Ashton’s nimble handiwork. Would it be the worst thing to close your eyes and forget that conversation from moments ago?

Why the hell not.

“Ashton.”

His name catches on your teeth as you fight the feeling of him. Ashton, Ashton, Ashton.

He dragged one more line up your folds, collecting your wetness onto his fingers.

“Mmhm?”

Right as you open your mouth to speak again, he curls his finger inside of you. You writhe and squirm, pushing back onto his chest that was seemingly going nowhere if not to support your weakened body.

“Holy shit—“ you whine, eyelids finally giving up their fight and lulling closed once he’d found the rhythm of you at his fingertips.

“Ah ah ah, no,” Ashton tuts, one hand still working around the clock while the other shoots up to the top of your throat, just below your chin. He forces your eyes back open and when you’d met him in the mirror, the most you could do was moan.

“Eyes on me, honey girl.”

Your senses were lost, your legs were going numb; you were shaking and moaning like a desperate mess and once again, you were held up by strings like the sad little puppet you were.

Were, and always will be.

“C’mon, don’t lose me now,” he mumbles, dipping down to sink his teeth into the base of your neck, “You’re doin’ such a good job.”

The face staring back at you in the mirror was barely your own. It felt like torture to watch yourself unravel for him, let alone watching everything unfold at the mercy of his fingertips. This wasn’t one of those thoughts that you could just stare at the ceiling to forget about; it was real, and it was now.

And a part of you felt the need to just smile.

As Ashton trails kisses up your neck to the side of your face, he catches that lazy grin of yours in the mirror.

“There she is, there’s my fuckin’ honey girl.”

The thrusts of his fingers were growing sloppier, your stomach contorted in knots as you writhed in his hold. The sounds of your arousal echoed against the matchbox walls of the restroom, making your face fall flush as the smell of his cologne had you dizzy enough already.

“Gonna cum’ for me baby? I feel it— you’re fuckin’ close now, aren’t you?”

There was now a heated staredown taking place in the mirror. One hand of his wrapped around your throat while the other worked away at your core beneath your jeans. God, it was an obscene sight to behold. And Ashton seemed to agree.

His eyes zones in on yours, hypnotizing you with those speckled irises as the corner of his lips perked up into a smile. He was egging you on, knowing that his face and encouraging words alone could lead you toppling towards the finish line.

“Ashton— oh, Ashton—” you whine, your breathy words causing him to press into you and push your body against the counter. He was rough around all edges yet gentle in the way that he handled you, making sure you were comfortable enough for him to kick your leg open wider and clamp down on your neck like it was nothing.

“Fuck!” you cry out, that familiar feeling of butterflies entrapped in your lower stomach starting to brew.

“Give it t’ me, baby— Nice n’ easy— Fuck yes, you feel incredible— So fuckin’ tight…”

His voice started to sound like a siren’s song, still drowning in his strong cologne and now feeling the raging hard on of his pressing against your backside, it all had you doubled over in ecstasy. You never wanted this to end, truth be told; and Ashton wasn’t going to let that happen.

Not quite yet.

“Look at you,” Ashton growls, his face welded with concentration, “So fuckin’ dirty… Watchin’ me fuck you with my fingers in the mirror. You like that, don’t you?”

You nod sheepishly, opening your mouth but wincing as his thumb and index finger squeeze the sides of your neck.

“Honey, you— you gotta’ answer me when I ask questions.”

“Yes— I— I like it, Ashton.”

He’s still working at you with his fingers, now paying the most attention to your clit and rubbing quick circles against it.

“Oh c’mon, is that all you’ve got? Tell me how much you love bein’ a dirty fuckin’ slut for me.”

Right as you’re about to answer his pressing demands, your orgasm begins to rip through you like a bullet to the chest. You cry out, slumping against his back, your legs twitching uncontrollably as he matches the timing of your high with his magical fingertips.

“I love it! Fuck, yes— I love it!”

Although your ears were ringing from the orgasm that just came crashing down onto you, you could faintly hear a chuckle from the base of Ashton’s chest. He was laughing.

Maybe you were overthinking it, but could it be that he was laughing at you?

“God, you are just— sensational,” Ashton catches your limp body, his hands quickly finding and supporting your waist as you stumble backwards like you were made of jello.

“Wh—what?” you reply, hoping you’d heard him correctly and weren’t just hearing voices.

“I said,” he begins, grabbing your chin once more and forcing your eyes back into the mirror, “You are fucking sensational.”

“I— I don’t—” Your head was cloudy, so to speak. And Ashton suddenly switching from one tone to the other had it messed up even more. That damned pearly smile in the mirror was almost mocking you, acting like he hadn’t just had your livelihood at his fingertips.

Literally.

“You alright?” Ashton asks you gently, after a few moments of unresponsiveness.

“Yeah I— I’m good…”

What Ashton didn’t know was that you were, in fact, not good. Maybe even worse than before. As cliché as it all seemed, having him so close made you only want more of him— and you knew that desire would be dust in the wind once the curtains fell.

Your time with Ashton never had a set clock, but this time felt oddly short. Change was weird, change was hard. You weren’t sure you liked that.

“You’re just a peach, aren’t you? Feeling any better?” He leans down to the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your ear as he plants tiny kisses in his trails.

“I suppose so,” you mumble, leaning into him one more time before the inevitable end of this tender moment.

“I told you I could help ya’. Maybe your job’ll be a little easier tonight, honey. I know mine will.”

The irony of his statement almost made you chuckle, but you couldn’t stand to be staring at your own reflection anymore. You spin around to face him, cupping his face in your hands and letting your thumb trace the stubble on his cheek.

His eyes found your lips almost immediately, that gaze of his was telling enough.

“Have a good show tonight, Ash— Feels like I don’t say that enough.” You weren’t sure what in your somewhat right mind led you to say that, but the pit in your stomach seemed to be taking the lead.

“Oh, well, thank you. I— I appreciate that.”

You caress his face for a few more moments, debating whether or not to kiss him. But he makes that decision for you, grabbing your hips sweetly and pulling you in.

The kiss is tender; not hungry like before. There’s better intentions behind his lips and his tongue was about as sweet as ever. You close your eyes, savoring the moment since you never quite remember to do so.

“I always have a better show when I know you’re there watching, y’know.”

You chuckle, his voice was soft like cotton and almost brought a tear to your eye. He presses his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours gently.

“Well then, I’ll be there,” you whisper sheepishly, letting his hands roam your hips one last time before he’s pulling away, “I have to be, anyway. I get paid to do so.”

“Good. I’ll be looking for you before curtains so, I better find what I’m lookin’ for.”

An exasperated sigh leaves your chest as you watch him step away from you, his footsteps taking him towards the door. This was the end, you thought, but the cycle must continue.

Life goes on once again, as usual.

“I’ll see you out there,” you wave, remnants of your conversation from earlier plaguing the back of your head as you try to savor your last few moments alone with him.

Ashton just smiles. That stupid, dumb, idiotic smile. The one that drives you up the walls and keeps you occupied whenever your head hits a pillow. He waves back at you, like a high school crush, his face gleaming as per usual which only made you want to curl up into a ball in the corner and die.

His voice is once again that soft, tender tone. You wished you were dreaming but unfortunately, you were wide awake.

“I’ll be waitin’ for ya’, my honey girl.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[peachhcs]

after mack saw her again he took a few days to decide how he could see her again and maybe she had a competitor and he showed up alone and waited till it was over to find her alone and she’s shocked

au masterlist

also side note: mack and blaire go to college like a yearish early so they’re 18 at the start of this au and that’s why blaire’s in/finishing her 3rd semester

so maybe mack was a stalker, whatever, it didn’t matter nor count if all of it was public knowledge. he drove to the university, which, was conveniently 10 minutes from his house, a nervous edge in his system. maybe he shouldn’t do this.

he hasn’t seen blaire in maybe..two years? they stopped talking when he made his decision to go to boston which led to them losing all contact. she probably didn’t even want to see him and that’s why she hasn’t reached out since he got to san jose officially.

but macklin really wanted to see her. even if she turned him away and told him to never talk to her again, he had to at least try. they were in the same fucking city by coincidence. there was something someone or something was trying to tell them and macklin wanted to test his luck.

he was glad she was still super involved in figure skating and even more surprised when he read that she got a full ride from santa clara to figure skate. although, it also didn’t surprise him because he knew she was good.

the brunette took a few deep breaths as he walked up to the rink. his plan was to stay close to the back so she wouldn’t see him and by the end, he would try to catch her alone to talk.

okay, so maybe it sounded weird, but he didn’t know how else to do it. he didn’t want to sike her out before she went on and waiting until after sounded better than getting into her before she competed.

luckily, the place was somewhat packed, so macklin easily slipped through to the top of the bleachers and hid behind some tall dads. the skaters were warming up on the ice and he immediately spotted blaire. she was already in her costume stretching out her legs.

it didn’t even look like she changed much. she still looked like the same blaire mack knew and (still) loved that he met four years ago and that brought a smile to his lips.

there weren’t that may competitors, so the meet didn’t last long. when blaire went on macklin physically couldn’t look away. just like when they were 14, he was captivated by the way she lept and twirled across the ice so effortlessly. he didn’t even know how she did it or did those big spins without worrying about messing up. anytime he tried those turns he could only do 1 maybe 2 at the most.

the rink started clearing out after around 2 hours and macklin was really starting to feel the nerves. he hung around in the bleacher area still, waiting for blaire to come back out. he thought several times about just turning around and leaving, but something in him kept him from moving.

finally, the the dirty blonde shuffled out of the locker room with her bag slung over her shoulder. she was looking at her phone, so she didn’t see the brunette watching her a few feet away until he little jumped in front of her.

“blaire?” macklin muttered carefully. her gaze shot to his, searching his features before slowly realizing he was actually standing in front of her.

“m-mack..hey..” her own shock settled into her features.

“hi. sorry..i’m sure you’re probably wondering why i’m here and how i even found out you’re here..and i promise i wasn’t being weird..i just happened to see you at the game against san jose university the other day and i was like oh my god, is that blaire? and it was you and i just..i wanted to see you..and..” the poor boy began rambling out of nervousness. very typical of him, but blaire actually found it quite cute and glad that he hadn’t lost his touch of always talking way more than he had to.

“first of all, it’s not weird. it is public knowledge where i go to school. second of all, i’m..flattered you wanted to come see me,” she rocked on her heels, nervous but not weirded out or anything like mack thought she would be.

a tiny grin spread across his lips hearing her say that, “oh! okay..good. i was worried you would think i was some creep..” he slowed down for a second to let his mouth catch up with his brain, “it’s good to see you. you probably know this, but i play for the san jose sharks now.”

“i..did hear you they drafted you 1st overall this summer. congrats, by the way. that’s super awesome. i figured you’d go pretty fast. i..i meant to.. well..i didn’t know if it would be weird if i reached out to you since we.. it’s good to see you too,” now blaire was stumbling over her words. it seemed like both teenagers worried that neither of them wanted to reconnect, but it was obvious they were worried about nothing and did want to reach out.

“no, no i get it. i didn’t know if showing up here would be weird. how’ve you been though?” macklin tried making conversation as he scratched the back of his head.

“i’ve been good. i had a really good first year of college and the second year has been pretty good so far. how’s the sharks?”

“good! everything’s been good. it’s a dream come true basically,” the boy chuckled.

blaire happened to catch a glimpse of mack’s bracelet when he raised his arm to scratch his head. she quickly recognized it as the matching ones they used to have together and something tugged in her heart at the idea of him never taking it off. when she looked back up at his face it was like she was transported back in time to when they were 14—so young and naive.

“that’s really great, i’m really happy to hear that. i..i do have to get going, but we should catch up more. i can..i can give you my number again? so you can text me when you’re free,” blaire offered because she didn’t want this to be the last time she saw him.

mack felt the exact same way, “oh, yeah! totally. just put yourself into my phone,” he handed her his phone where she typed in her number.

“text me! i’m free most nights pretty much. i’d really love to talk to you more,” the girl grinned.

“i will, for sure. it was good seeing you,” they waved as blaire hurried out of the rink.

a new, happy feeling settled itself into mack’s chest and all the anxieties he had leading up to his were quickly gone.

[writersblockworks]

So I saw that your requests are open 🤭

May I por favor get Vergil specifically DMC 5 x reader where he eats you out

I just finished playing DMC 5 and he's been HEAVY on my mind

Please and thank yous !! 💜

Whattt guys come on another smut? Oh man I don’t know……. Anyways here pookie <3

Also forgive me it’s been a hot minute since playing the game.

Camping

Cw: eating pussy, a gun mention

You decided to head to the woods near Red Grave City. Why? Actually you didn’t really know yourself, you just had a calling, a dream. Telling you something big was near the city, honestly you never believed in that shit, but at this point, you’ll do anything for adventure.

“Are you really going?” Your brother asks you. You look at him, taking a break from packing your bag.

“It’s just really dangerous, you don’t know what can happen to you.” He said, trying to get your attention. But nothing worked, after you packed your flashlight, you looked at your brother.

“I swear to you, I will be fine, besides it will be like camping in the woods when we were younger. You just won’t be going with me.” You said. He sighed, he had wanted to come. To watch over you, but he has already missed a ton of work due to being in the hospital so you were going to be on your own this trip. You weren’t too worried, you’d been in MMA training since you were a child, so while you could definitely defend yourself if someone came at you, it was still always good to bring pepper spray or a gun.

“The first sign of danger, you get out of there. When you’re camping alone you listen to your gut okay?”

“You worry to much.” You said, but noticing his expression didn’t change “I will be safe.” You say loading the bag in the car. He looked at you. Then embraced you.

“I just have the worst feeling about you going there” he whispered.

“I promise I will be okay.” You say, he looks at you for a while.

“Don’t die on me.” He said before walking inside “Mom will be pissed.” He adds. You laughed before getting in your car to start it.

After a few hours of driving you finally get to the woods. The smell was different than you anticipated. There was just a little more than the usual smell of oak. No matter, you had your mind set on camping. You had been stuck in worse places before. You grab the large backpack with all your supplies in it, you throw it over your back. Then you grab a silver case from the very back. Opening it there is a black pistol lying in the case. You grab it out and load the magazine. You turned off the safety. You took the gun holster and clipped it to your belt, then you placed the gun into it.

You click your car keys to lock your car, then place them in your bag. You walk a bit into the woods, when you’re in the woods you’ll have all sorts of animals watching you. However your gut told you this was no animal, the uneasy feeling crawled on your back like a bug. You put your hand on the gun before you spin around. Just as you expected nothing was there.

“Stupid gut feeling.” You mumble before dropping your hands. You kept walking, it wasn’t long before you came to a small clearing. You had plenty of room to put your things. You throw down your bag and begin to dig for your tent. Once you find it, the nails, and the mallet you get to work.

Soon you actually had a cute little set up. Behind your tent was a flowing river. You set up where you’ll make your fire. You collect rocks and dry sticks for your fire.

This took you back to where your father would take you guys camping and he would teach you to live off the land. He taught you how to fish, how to hunt, what berries were safe, he taught you all sorts of things. When he passed, you guys stopped doing these, not wanting to bring pack the memories. Recently though, you have been camping almost every weekend. Using the skills your father taught you.

At night you had a good day. You were cooking the food you brought over the fire when you eased slashing. You paused for a moment looking around, slowly you drew your gun and stood up.

“Hello?” You call out. Praying you didn’t get an answer.

“Hello.” Someone said, you looked around. Aiming your gun into the void, trying to find the voice

“Whoever you are, I am armed.” You warn

“What’s a pretty girl going in the woods?” The void asks, slowly revealing a man with white hair. He’s a handsome man with white hair and beautiful blue eyes. You raise your gun.

“Stay there. Who are you?” You ask.

“Darling put down the gun, I don’t want to hurt you.” He said.

“You have a sword, drop it.” You say between shaky breaths.

“Do you really think I wo-“

“Drop it!” You yell, he sighs and stops his sword.

“Drop the gun.” He demands.

“How do I know you won’t kill me?” You ask.

“If I wanted you dead I would have killed you long ago.” He said. he starts to walk towards you, once he gets a good distance from you he sits down.

“I don’t want to hurt you, just to talk.” He said. You were conflicted, your brain said to keep your gun, but your gut said to put it down. You lowered the gun. Then placed it back in its holster.

“Thank you. I was worried you were going to shoot me.” He said, you still kept your distance.

“I’m still worried for my safety.” You say.

I won’t hurt you, I just wanted to talk to a beautiful woman and I’m so lucky to find one.” He said, you feel your face start to flush.

“I’m here for some adventure.” You tell him. He raised his eyebrows.

“Adventure? And you’re camping?”

Maybe more fun for me.” You sigh. He gazes at you for a moment.

“My name is Vergil what is yours.” He asked.

“Y/N.” You stated.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” Vergil says, your face heats up. You decide to scoot next to him. After an hour you two are talking about anything you can think of. From food to the wilderness. You both ended up laughing

“Tell me this, what brings a handsome man like you out here?” You ask, he looks at you, he scoots closer to you and you start to feel hot.

“Oh just looking for some fun, and now I found it.” He whispers. Your face heats up.

“Well im glad you found me. I was worried I was being stalked.” You sigh, he just smiles. He places a hand on your thigh.

“You know I’m getting very hungry, I haven’t eaten in a while.” He whispers, rubbing your thigh. You feel the heat form and rise through your body.

“I’m so sorry I ate the last of my food.” You say, you feel so bad. He grabs your chin so you can look up at him.

“That’s okay I’ll just take something else.” He said before kissing you, you didn’t know how to react at first. But you kiss back. Very quickly, things turn messy, he picks you up and you feel your tongues start to explore each others mouths. After a while. He sets you on the chair you brought. He starts kissing your neck you feel your underwear start to soak.

“Ah Vergil.” You moan, you place your hand over your mouth to silence you. He gets to your pants and removes your belt. He looks at you as he slowly pulls down your pants and your underwear. He kisses your thighs, caressing them then lifting you up to play with your ass. Before he leans in to your pussy, he looks up at you, as if he was asking for permission. You nod.

“Oh don’t be afraid to be loud Princess, no one can hear us.” He said before placing his tongue on you. You feel your body start to burn, and his tongue quickly turns warm. He was going slowly, making sure you enjoyed it. You moan, each time you do it gets louder and louder.

“Fuck f-fast-faster.” You moan. You didn’t even care that you met this man not even an hour ago, but now he was holding your thighs apart as you screamed for him. He pulled his face up.

“Cum for me princess.” He says before returning to what he was doing. You didn’t even need to be told, but you felt yourself explode shortly after. You felt him lick you clean you didn’t have anything left. He smirked.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” He said. He got closer you could smell yourself on his breath. “How about you come every weekend for this?

“But I live so far.” You say softly. He closes your legs for you and covers your bare legs with his body.

“Then I’ll come to you, I don’t want to never see you again, I don’t want to never have this again. You taste too good.” He whispered. You went hot again, and suddenly you felt like you came back to life.

“You know, I could go for round two.” You say, pulling him up. He looks at you and smirked.

“You’re making deals with the devil darling.” He says before he opens your legs again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sorry this seems rushed, but it’s finals week and I wanted to get this out. It’s short but if you make a request to make it longer you’ll just have to be patient with me. <3

[thefrenchydude]

Murderous Lust chap 4 (part 1)

(It's kinda very short for now, I got a new job and the hours of works are very complicated so sorry, gonna try and post the rest in part two and Halloween I hope :''(.)

The atmosphere changed.

Lex didn’t know why, but at the very moment Reader left the room, the atmosphere became more heavy. The two kings who were now watching him with fury in their eyes. Their hands seemed more contracted as the veins were getting more visible as time passed. And they looked like they were ready to jump at him at any moment. 

Lex felt like a sheep surrounded by a pack of hungry wolf.

He didn’t dare to talk, didn’t even dare to look at them in the eyes. They were not only very intimidating, but they were also extremely dangerous. Lex knew the stories about the two demon kings that had killed thousand of gods, demons and humans. He knew if they wanted to hurt him, they could obliterate him at that moment and nobody could have done something to help.

Wukong’s tail flipped violently, smacking the hard floor and making Lex jump.

Strangely, that’s when Lex felt like talking again. 

He began to talk about the city, the projects he had for it. The things he wanted to get rid of and the things he wanted to build.

The kings looked at him. Not listening at what he is saying at all.

Wukong wanted to get up and walk down to that little fraud. He imagined himself punching him in the face with all his strength, literally exploding his head into some kind of jelly.

Oh, god. He really REALLY wanted to just kill him right here and now - and truly nothing could stop him. But, Macaque was right about the whole “getting Reader on our side for him not to hate us for centuries”.

So instead, Wukong just exhale loudly, sitting back on his throne.

He frowned.

Lex’s voice was getting on his nerves.

…

o0o

Reader woke up slowly, feeling as if the world were spinning. His eyelids were heavy, and his body felt like lead. He could barely move, as if an invisible force was holding him down. His mind raced, trying to remember what had happened before he blacked out.

The tiger demon. The blood. And then—Macaque.

His heart pounded as he fully regained consciousness.

Reader tried to sit up, but his body protested.

— Don't strain yourself.

The voice came from a dark corner of the room. Macaque emerged from the shadows.

— You fainted, Macaque said, coming closer. You're not used to seeing things like that, are you?

— You… Reader's voice was shaky.

— Me ? I’m your husband.

— You’re just a psycho demon that keeps here against my will. (I don’t like this part ;-;)

Macaque's gaze didn’t leave him. 

— That’s one way to see it. But we’re keeping you safe. You’re important to us. Lex... he was never meant to be in your life. We were.

The room felt colder.

— Where is he ? asked Reader.

Macaque sighed, sitting at the edge of the bed. 

— He’s alive, as we told you. But, Reader, you need to understand... we are your past. Your real life. You and Lex—it’s an illusion. Something that never should have been.

— An illusion? Reader repeated with a contained rage. Lex is my husband. He’s my life. Whatever you’re saying doesn’t change that!

Macaque’s eyes flashed with something darker. He leaned closer, his voice low. 

— You don’t remember, do you? Not everything. Not yet.

— Remember what?

Macaque’s hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from Reader’s face. His touch was gentle, yet it felt bitter. 

— Your past with us. Your life before… this little worm. You weren’t just some mortal. You were... everything. To the both of us.

Reader moved away, his body finally cooperating enough to get away from the demon.

— I don’t know what you’re talking about.

— You will, Macaque said, standing up. In time. When you’re ready to face the truth. Wukong and I, we’ve waited for centuries. We can wait a little longer.

A loud knock echoed through the room, breaking the tension. The door swung open, and Wukong strode in, his golden eyes sharp and focused on Reader.

— Feeling better, Peaches? Wukong asked with a grin, though his tone had an edge that made Reader uneasy.

Reader glared at him, gathering the strength to push himself up further on the bed. 

— Don’t call me that. I’m leaving. NOW.

Wukong laughed. 

— Oh, you’re not going anywhere, Peaches. Not yet.

Macaque gave Wukong a warning look, but the Monkey King ignored it with a big smile, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the opposite side of Reader. He leaned in, so close that Reader could feel his breath against his skin.

— You don’t know how much I wanted to cuddle with you !

He took Reader in his arms.

Reader looked for his tail, if he could twist it again… But Wukong isn’t stupid and Reader couldn’t reach it. His embrace was too strong.

Wukong took his sweet time to enjoy the very angry Reader’s presence and just ignored all the insults that were launched at him.

(I'm not a big fan of this beginning for the chapter ;___;)

<previous-next part(on work)>

[xxladyballadxx]

Bad Day

Dick Grayson x Platonic Best Friend! Reader

Summary : Just (Y/n) having a bad day after Bruce had a go at him/her for borrowing the batmobile for a spin around Gotham without his permission. Dick comes and visits you to cheer you up by taking you out.

Note: Since the reader will be like a platonic best friend to Dick Grayson. No romance will be involved in this fanfiction. The reader is gn! Also, I’m not quite familiar with rides at a funfair lmao since I haven’t been on them for ages!

☆ dividers by @plum98 ☆

Bruce found out that you took his batmobile out for a spin while he was on a vacation with his special lady Selina Kyle. You asked yourself a very silly question wondering how the hell he found out and you know an answer damn well to that. After being scolded by the old man, you stormed off to your bedroom and slam-kicked the door shut, locking it as you let out an angry scream out on your pillow with your face to it. 

Alfred knocked on it a few times wanting to check up on you. You repeatedly told him, not in a horrible way, to give you some space for the time being. A few hours later, a very good friend of yours popped by to visit you. Alfred called up Dick Grayson to try and talk to you. 

“(Y/n)?” Dick called out your name, beating down your door with a few knocks. You swept your legs out of the bed to unlock it, swinging it open to see that charming guy friend whom you haven’t seen for quite a while. 

“Oh hey Dick…” you greeted him moodily. Dick noticed that you were still pissed off with Bruce having a go at you. About the batmobile situation. “Did Bruce go all ‘Batman’ on you when you rode his batmobile without his permission?” Sort of silly of him to ask you that because it’s so freaking obvious. 

“Yes…” you murmured in response, letting Dick inside your room. An idea swept across his mind, “Get changed, we’re going out tonight.” 

“Really where to?” 

“Just get changed, (Y/n), I promise you it will be worth it.” 

As Dick patiently waited for you outside the Wayne Manor, you slipped on your converse shoes and headed outside seeing Dick standing by with a grin as he saw you hopped out, “Ready to go?” 

You adjusted your jacket, still wondering where he’s planning to take you, “Yeah so….” taking a pause there as you checked your bag to see if you had everything, “Where exactly are we going?”

“You will have to wait until we get there, buddy…” He curved out a smirk, throwing you the extra helmet before hopping on his motorbike. 

So the place he wanted to take you to was an enormous, colourful funfair somewhere around in Gotham City. Many fun rides you laid your eyes on looked promising, families spending time with their kids while they snack on lollipops, cotton candy and other junkies too. The whole site was booming tremendously with joys and laughter shooting through the citizens of Gotham enjoying themselves. Such a heartfelt feeling to see this kind of event. 

“So many people…” 

Dick gave a lightheart laugh, coming into the funfair with you, “I know you’re not a fan of this sort of thing but I thought bringing you out might cheer you up!” to be honest, you usually don’t like going to a special event like this but you slowly began to allow yourself to join in the fun since you’re with Dick. You shone a grin across your features, turning your head over to your pal, “So, Mister, which ride are we going on?” 

And that’s where the fun begins by going on roller coasters that get you throbbing excitedly while waving your arms in the air screaming like a psycho. Ghost rides were quite fun and what’s most joyful about it is getting jumpscared by those skeletons-ghosts kind of thing creeping up on you. You hopped on other rides such as teacups that spun you around like crazy, carousel, bumpy cars, swinging boats…

Last but not least: the old, classic ferris wheel which is most popular out of all the crazy-fun rides in the funfair. Couples and besties love to go on that sort of thing. Families too. While up in the air, you could see the whole city of Gotham, the buildings and all. You peeked through the glass, seeing kids with their parents roaming around the area. Laughing and smiling. Somehow it made you smile too. Dick noticed the little spark of joy shining across your face, he remained quiet because he didn’t want to ruin the moment. 

After the last ride, Dick brought you a bubblegum ice cream to snack on. A mint chocolate one for himself, his favourite. You two found yourselves an empty, spotless bench near the stalls wanting to sit down to eat your ice cream. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, (Y/n)?” Dick asked, licking the scoop of Vanilla on the cone. Since he managed to make your day with smiles and sweeties, you weren’t currently in a bad mood anymore. It’s a good thing that Dick got the opportunity to take you out of the Wayne Manor after that batmobile incident. “Honestly, I never realized that I needed this so…it was fun hanging out with you, Dick Grayson.” You gave him an honest answer, finishing off your Vanilla ice cream. 

“I’m glad to hear that! Also, Don’t let Bruce get to you. That guy always gets mad over things, like his precious batmobile.” 

 “I know right?! He’s always like this, ‘Touch my batmobile or anything else in the cave, you’re fired’ You changed your tone while drowning out in laughter, impersonating Bruce Wayne. 

Dick almost spat out his mint chocolate while letting out a bursting laugh at your impersonation of the almighty Batman. You joined in the continuous laughter with him. You downed all your Vanilla ice cream before leaving the funfair with Dick driving you back to Wayne Manor on his motorbike. “Hey Dick, thanks for taking me out here. It’s exactly what I needed after…you know…” 

He gave a light pat on your shoulder, “Don’t mention it. I know Bruce can be a pain in the ass at times but he’s a good guy.” 

“Yeah…yeah you're right he is…”

“Hey..” Dick elbowed you gently before walking back to his motorbike, “Call me if you ever want to hang out, alright?” 

You sighed, smiling momentarily while walking up to the entrance of the Wayne Manor, “I will…I will…”

a/n - It's hard to believe Dick's favourite ice cream flavour is mint chocolate (Internet helps lmao) because it's my favourite too! (Well it used to be Vanilla but got changed to that flavour) Also, if you don't like the flavour Vanilla, you can imagine your own since everybody prefer another flavour of ice cream.

I didn't do much proofread so sorry if there's any mistakes or if it's very boring to read. I wrote this out of the blue because I was kinda in a shitty mood and feeling a bit unwell atm (Not to mention I've been feeling kinda moody...) Many people I know are getting sick probably because of the season or something. I don't think I will be in the mood to write another fanfic for a while...

*sigh*

But who knows...

[lyramundana]

Hii, fellow poly Minsung whore activist here🥰 I’m nervous about using my account so I went anon, I hope you don’t mind. I have a little scenario here that I’m probably so wrong for but I’m delulu ash.

Maybe reader (whose a fan or a friend is dragging her along with them) meets Minsung (who’re already in a relationship ofc) in a city they’re having a concert in. Minsung are like “hey ykw she kinda fine, let’s spice things up and bring her back to the hotel.” During their night together, the boys use degradation, praise, grips hard enough to bruise, and soft touches just to make her head spin.

Now I love me some a sprinkle of angst. She has a moment of overthinking after Minsung fall asleep and escapes?? Sort of lol. Minsung do not like this, no no no😔.

That night, she ends up at their concert with some good ass ground floor tickets. While she doubted they would see her and if they did, they probably wouldn’t recognize her (girl like they weren’t giving you the best dicking down of your life the night before), they do in fact see her and you just made this easier for them bbg. They told the other members and security guards to bring her backstage after the show.

Oh babe they mad as hellll. They don’t even wait to get back to the hotel as they drag her to an empty room and destroy her. We’re talking hand prints on her ass, more prominent fingerprint shapes on her hips, arms and neck, tears streaming down her face, the whole 9 yards.

Idk where to go from there tbh. Anyways I hope you enjoyed my delulu thoughts <3

Okay now, honey. First of all, there's no such thing as a "wrong" scenario. Everything that it's discussed in this blog is acceptable and very much not-delulu, so don't brush off your scenarios. Specially when is so FUCKING GOOD AND DELICIOUS like this one. Like, excuse me🥵🥵🥵?? You came up with this masterpiece and brought it to me for free?? Sweetie, you should post it in your own blog and let the world see this jewel of yours. Don't feel nervous of using your account. I always make my horny, unhinged requests displaying my username. This is Tumblr. No one here can judge you for your thoughts

You bet I enjoyed every line of this delulu side of yours.

Reader doesn't really follow the group, but her friend is a Stay and this concert is the lifelong opportunity they've been dreaming off, but they don't want to go alone, so they drag Reader to accompany them. While the friend is resting in the hotel/house, Reader decides to take a stroll around the city and comes across MinSung at some point. Maybe they meet in a shop, where they struck a converstation about common interests, and seeing they get along well MinSung agree and say "fuck it, can we join you?" and that's how they get to know each other better.

Reader doesn't know who they are, but their faces are familiar, and they're just happy to chat with someone like normal people. They've wanted to explore the city a bit before the concert, as the weather looked great for some alone time together, but they encountered the language barrier issue and the lack of knowledge about the place. When Reader appears and helps them out, being so friendly and nice about it, their first instinct is glue themselves to her for the rest of journey. Also, they find her really attractive and can't help but admire her discreetly and exchange appreciative comments that she can't understand. And that's how they spent their day hanging out, just the three of them, while Reader acts like a guide and they start to be bolder with her.

At some point they're sitting in a bar together, drinking a bit, and they have privacy to talk about anything. It's also then whey they begin to make their attraction clear. They've been so fucking stressed with this tour, sex recently hasn't been enough for them, and she's just so gorgeous. So cute. The way she speaks, moves, even the way she dress is driving them mad slowly. It doesn't help that she returns every bold gesture from them. She's not blind. She finds them hot too and it's been a while since she had some "fun".

So, after a while of wandering hands, spicy "jokes" and suggestive comments, the tension feels too thick and they throw the question in.

"We should get going back to our hotel room. Want to come with us and see it?"

She's not drunk enough to miss the intentions behind that question, but she's tipsy enough to accept.

The flirting doesn't stop and when they set a foot in the elevator, the tension snaps. They jump at her like hungry wolves, biting and grabbing every piece of skin they can get their hands on, and Reader welcomes all of it like a submissive lamb, ready to be devoured.

They struggle to open the door, being so occupied feeling her up under her clothes and leaving marks already. Once they're inside, one of them closes the door with a kick without taking his attention from her. They leave a path of clothes behind them that ends up in their bedroom and then she's thrown to the bed. She doesn't have time to recover before they're on her again, exploring every inch of her know naked body with their mouths and hands. Her brain is all mushy from the intense pleasure and adrenaline she's feeling. MinSung unleash all the pent up frustrations and desire they've been dealing with on her.

The entire night was filled with her moans and whimpers while they took her roughly, leaving their hands printed on her hips and inner thighs, as they groaned and cried out of sheer pleasure and relief. Sometimes they went at her at the same time, others they took turns while one watched.

"Such a good girl for us, isn't she, jagi?"

"Damn right she is, so eager to please us, to let us play with her body."

"Look at her, so obedient and cute for us. What a good whore, letting herself be fucked by some men she doesn't even know"

"Go on, use your mouth like the little slut you are. Nice job, kitten"

"We'll fill you up so much it'll be leaking out of you for days"

Her mind turns blank, the world spins, and her body starts to shake uncontrollably and tremble with the amount of orgasm she had. They grab her legs and torso with such force it feels they're trying to press the imprint themselves in it, moving her body as they please to find the right angle. When she cums again, she's half-unconscious and the boys are tired too, finally spent. They clean her up, massage the bruises the left and watch her fall asleep while caressing her face and kissing her skin. They chat for a while before the tiredness consumes them too, Reader safely kept in their arms.

The morning after, she's the first to wake up and doesn't take long to realize what happened. She remembers enough of it and feels her face get warm at the memory, but also gets giddy at it. She stretches a bit, careful to not wake them up, and supress a hiss of pain when she feels the marks they left. She reaches for her phone, reading the messages and calls from her friend, who's worried sick, at which Reader calms them down by giving them a "censored" version of the events. Then the friends reminds her of the concert and sends a photo of one of the promotional posters, featuring all members.

Reader feels her blood freeze inside her body.

She turns around to look at the boys in bed, then at the picture on the phone, then at the bed again, and she feels faint.

Maybe it's the remnants of the alcohol, maybe it's the weight of the revelation, maybe it's the lack of sleep she got, but Reader has to fight off a panic attack and the only thing she can think of at this moment is running away from this situation. So she gets dressed, grabs her stuff, and leaves hurriedly without waking them up and full intention of not looking back. When the boys wake up, they expected to see her in their arms still and maybe get another round, but imagine their shock when they see she's not there. Ohh honey, they're seriously mad. Why the fuck did she run? How could she after they night they had? They try to brush off the anger because they know chances of seeing her again are slim and there's no point.

Meanwhile, Reader's friend notices she's not quite the same since she came back and she's even more reluctant than before in attending the concert. To get her friend off her back, she admits she saw MinSung during her walk and chatted with them "a bit" and now she's embarrased to see them. Her friend, obviously, has a fangirl moment at first and chastises Reader for not telling her first, bombing her with questions, but she avoids the spicy parts of the story. Her friend finally tells her to not worry, that although their seats give a good view of the stage, it'll be very hard for the boys to spot her in the crowd anyway. Reader relents and goes to the concert, having dressed prettily at her friends' insistence because "they have to look their best for the occasion!". When they arrive, Reader feels more at ease with the amount of people surrounding her and thinks her friend said the true.

However, when the group comes to the stage, she feels her heart stop at recognizing the men she had that glorious night of sex with and becomes shifty. They don't make signs of having spoted her, even when Jisung came near their zone, he didn't seemed to notice her, and she allowed herself to enjoy the performance, convinced that they was safe. But she didn't know Jisung had indeed spoted her, hence he aproached their location to confirm. He didn't hesitate in telling Minho, and when they overcame the shock, they former anger came back again and they agreed to a plan. Stays could feel a shift in the boys' performance, they seemed more brutal, harsher.

When the concert ended, Reader was about to leave with her friend until a security guard stopped her and told her she was demanded backstage. Both of them were shocked and confused, and Reader's friend even acted worried, refusing to ler her go in fear she got in trouble for something. Reader calmed her down and asked her to wait in the hotel, since the man told them it wasn't anything bad. While she was leaving, the friend winked at her and exclaimed "tell me all the details when you sign the NDA".

A staff members takes her to an empty dressing room and tells her to wait, leaving her alone there. She's fidgeting, not knowing what to expect but having a small suspicion. Suddenly, the door opens with a slam and she jumps in the place. When she sees the two boys enter and locking the door behind them, she knows she's fucked.

They let her know exactly how pissed off they are, interrogating her and even accusing her of being a fan pretending to not know them just to get her wet dream come true. She argues back and denies it all, returning all their yells, until a hand grabs her painfully by the jaw.

"You don't fucking get to talk back to us, whore. We should've put you in your place from the beginning"

"I think she's a little too high up there, jagiya. Let's remind her exactyl what her place is"

All the gentleness they showed the first night is gone. Her clothes are ripped in shreds and thrown carelessly around the room, as she's pushed forcefully on the ground.

They don't hide their satisfaction and pride at seeing the faint marks they left previously, pressing them enough to make her whine in pain.

"Don't whine, slut. We're about to give you even more of them."

They go at her at the same time, no turns now. They edge her until she's sobbing and screaming, first with their fingers and then with their tongues. She gets spanked by one of their belts, feeling the bruises starting to form in her ass cheeks and thighs. She's then gagged with the same belt because "way too fucking loud, kitten. you're not allowed to make a sound".

When she's spasming, eyes rolling back and begging through the belt for some release, anything, the boys exchange a knowing glance and untie the gag, letting her breathe through her mouth in relief. But her relief doesn't last when they position her in the middle, with both of their dicks inching to her cunt. She knows they're up to something, but her brain is too fucked to guess what. When she feels both of their cocks entering her at once, she's about to scream again but a hand quickly covers her mouth, and they both start moving agressively inside her, leaving their dicks printed in her walls. The feelinf their cocks rubbing against each other and her clenching almost makes them cum again, but they control themselves.

They fucked her back and forth across the room, moving from the ground to the couch to the chairs to the make up tables, etc.

"That's what you fucking deserve for leaving us, baby. What the fuck were you thinking with that dead brain of yours, hm?"

"Look at her, so cockdumb already, acting like a desesperate bitch in heat. Aren't two cocks enough for you?"

"Is this what you wanted? Being fucked by two celebrities to share the experience with your friends? Of course you did. You're nothing but an attention seeking slut, only thinking about having a dick inside you"

"We'll make sure you can't even walk after this. You're not going anywhere this time, darling. Let's see how can you run away then."

She can no longer tell if what she's feeling is pain or pleasure, but when they cum inside her and she feels both of their cocks twitching inside her, it triggers her own orgams and her vision turns white. She faints in their arms, muttering and having spasms. They pause to recover their breaths too, checking on her worriedly and chuckling softly when she replies gibberish. One of them lifts her up bridal style and lay her down in the couch, both caging her with their bodies.

"You were ours from the moment you entered our your bedroom"

Tagging @channieandhisgoonsquad @2chopsticks2eyes @sweetracha because they gave me ideas for this. Feel free to add something or give your own version of it. The more the merrier.

[shadowsndaisies]

Your nightingale series is 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼

I literally read through every chapter you’ve posted in 2 days! I love love love it !!!! Can’t wait to see more <333

aaaah! thank you so much!!! as a treat, enjoy some Ollie and Birdy bonding!

......

"Okay, Kid, Dinah said you're almost street ready, which is great, but before we set you free on the city we need to make sure you're able to get around," Oliver stood tall beside you as he led you through the now abandoned (and slightly decrepit) Queen Manor.

"If this is about the maps, D said I aced her ‘I'm lost, Birdy, where are we?’ tests," you shoot back with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, we're very proud that you can mentally navigate, I meant physically traversing," he clarifies, waving his hand around.

"Are you gonna teach me how to drive?" your eyes had blown wide in excitement.

"Absolutely not," he negates, smiling at the way your expression dropped into a pout.

“We will be waiting at least until you’re 14 for that,” Oliver adds on.

“That’s not fair, how am I supposed to get around if I can’t drive,” you counter.

“A normal person waits til sixteen,” he shoots back, and you shut your mouth for the moment being. “now, as I was saying, traversing, as in grappling,” he clarifies.

“grappling?” you repeat.

“Yep!” and he leads you up the stairs.

He finally stops in the attic and stands next to a broken window, looking out you see a gymnastics net has been set up on the ground below you, the same used in trapeese acts.

"That's a long way down," you note cautiously.

"It is," he nods. "How far do you think?" he asks with a quirked brow.

"Well we're about four stories up, a story on average is about fourteen feet, so we're about, what? fifty-six feet up?" you estimate, taking a second as you go to do the math.

"sixty-five, but your math process is spot on," he nods.

"sixty-five feet," you repeat, looking out at the ground, which seems to spin a bit the longer you look down.

"And this is the short end, when you're out there, you're grappling from, around, and between sky scrapers," he adds on.

"oh," you say softly, rolling the tip of your shoe against the floor. It's a bit of a tick, Oliver's noticed, not directly obvious which works in your favor, but something he's going to have to talk with Dinah about for sure.

He sighs and takes a knee to be closer to your eye level. You're still so young, so small, barely nine years old, "look, kiddo, today... today and for this training I can't be your friend, Ollie, okay? I have to be a little harsher. Grappling is an important skill, but it's also dangerous and Dinah and I need to make sure you're ready to move through the city like this, that you're trained properly for it," he explains, a hand on your shoulder.

"okay," you nod, voice soft.

"Okay," he repeats back, standing back up and leading you a table, there's a bow, and a grapple gun. "Here's how the next few weeks are going to go. First we're going to learn with the gun, make sure you're able to hold it, that you understand how it works. we are going to take this thing apart and put it back together until you can do it in 30 seconds or less. then, we're going to work on shooting, on testing what's a solid grapple point, and once we're confident in our choices we're going to work on actually using it, swinging around and stuff."

"Is that why there's a gymnast's net outside?"

"uh, yeah, about that..."

your brows furrow down, and if he weren't so anxious about what he had to share with you, he'd probably be cooing at the expression of distrust, "what?"

"Dinah thinks it's important to learn how to... fall," he says slowly.

"fall?"

"fall," he repeats, nodding and looking out.

you pause for a second and he can see the gears turning and sees when you put it together.

"you want me to practice.. falling," you say again.

"yes."

"as in, i will be falling down onto that net, from up here?" you ask.

"yes."

"This was Dinah's plan?" you squeak; the look of betrayal on your face forces him to choke down a laugh; your eyes are so expressive, and sometimes he is just stuck in awe of you.

"yes," he nods again; he’s not going to tell you that they both did this; he rather likes being the good cop.

"I do not like this," you decide.

"yes, we didn't think you would," ollie admits. "I am however, incredibly proud of you for saying so," he smirks.

"you would be proud, stupid pysch based child rearing," you scoff.

"Have you been peaking though Dinah's books again?" he asks, lips quirked in a knowing smirk.

you roll your eyes, "maybe."

"our smart girl," he smiles.

"So... when does the falling come in the schedule?"

"With the shooting," he admits.

"Not today?"

"No, not today," he reassures you.

"What if.. what if I want to try today?" you ask, he notes that your shoe is rolling again.

"kiddo you don't have to-"

"I want to, I want to know what I'm getting myself into," you tell him, tone resolute, and that's a pretty fair request.

"Okay, after we work on assembly and disassembly, at the end, you can try take a dive," he nods, and he can see you nodding back at him, trying to hype yourself up. "I'll do it with you," he adds, and your shoulders seem to lose some of the tension they were holding as you nod back.

...

wc: 921

synopsis: ollie introduces birdy to grappling

main masterlist

codename: nightingale series masterpost

...

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

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@babymango-writes @smile-more19 @bruiscdlikeviolets @truly-dionysus @farfromjustordinary

@sometimeseverythingsucks @dweeb-central @lucy-roo @casedoina @cipheress-to-k-pop

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@raginghellfire

[watchandread02]

For the "Holidays with the Winchesters: A very Destiel Advent Calendar" by @archervale and @wormstacheangel

Day Seventeen: Parade

Ao3

None of the cities Cas had lived in before had ever done a Christmas Parade, so he had been a bit apprehensive when Gabe had suggested it. Especially since Gabe had seemed way too eager to show it to him. But once Jimmy and Amelia had told him that they would also be taking Claire, Cas had calmed down. If it was child friendly it couldn’t turn out to be that bad.

As it turns out it’s not bad at all, it’s magnificent.

Cas watches in awe as all the differently decorated wagons slowly drive by. With every wagon there is something new to admire and the lights that are built into the designs are shimmering brightly in the dark. When Cas looks over at his family, he finds that all of them are as drawn in as he is. Claire in particular seems to be fascinated by the festive Parade and her eyes are shining with light that is reflecting in her eyes. Cas turns back around to face the Parade again, just as some very impressive looking nutcrackers walk by. The procession stops right in front of them and they get to see a spectacular performance of an intricate march, with the nutcrackers walking in between each other that makes it look like a well practiced dance. The music that is played by the marching band behind the nutcracker army only emphasizes their performance. After that spectacle comes a pretty simple looking wagon. It’s in the shape of a snowflake, but the way the different coloured lights reflect against the white background of the snowflake, makes it stand out in its own way. The next attraction has Cas’ breath catch in his throat. Beautiful well kept classic cars are driving down the road, with a stunning looking black Impala driving at the front. There are people walking in between the cars and some of them are wearing signs that proclaim ‘Singer and Winchester auto repair-shop’. Well if they remake cars this beautiful, he will have to check them out at some point.

Suddenly Cas’ vision is filled by a very tall man, with shaggy hair. The guy looks him up and down for a moment, before coming to a decision.

“Hey I saw you admiring the Impala. You wanna take a ride in it?” the guy asks.

Cas can only nod dumbly and the next second he is pulled out of the crowd and towards the Impala’s passenger side door. The guy opens it up for him and just about manhandles Cas into the car. The door closes, before he can even utter a word. Dumbfounded Cas turns to look at the driver and finds a guy that is even more beautiful than the car he is driving. Cas is left stunned as the guy turns a brilliant smile his way that makes the corners of his green eyes wrinkle adorably.

“Heya, my name is Dean. What’s yours?” Dean asks Cas, who is still very confused as to what’s going on.

“Hello, Dean. I am Castiel. What exactly is happening here?”

“Oh damn. Did Sammy not explain this to you? That kid I swear.” Dean kind of mumbles to himself, but Cas is still able to hear it pretty clearly in the confined space of the car.

Cas is pretty sure that Dean is talking about the tall guy that shoved him in here. Though he would have never used the descriptor of kid for him.

“Well every year we join the Parade with some of our classic restored cars. The helpers outside sometimes pick out people from the crowd, who get to drive with us. Sammy must have thought you looked particularly interested in Baby. Also Cas, this is Baby. Baby, Cas. Normally I don’t really like other people getting in Baby, so you’re actually the first one that gets to take a spin around the Parade with me and Baby.” Dean explains.

“Did you just call me Cas?” he asks as he tilts his head in confusion.

No one had ever shortened his name like that. Gabe called him Cassie, which wasn’t really his favorite, he much prefers it if people just called him Csstiel. But this guy he doesn’t even really know had given him a nickname he actually liked in less then two minutes of them knowing each other. Why no one else had ever thought of shortening his name to Cas, he also doesn’t know, but that’s not what’s important right now.

“Not what I thought you would focus on. I can stop if you don’t like it. I’m kind of a nickname guy, sorry.” Dean says as he rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“No, it’s alright. I quite like it actually,” Cas is quick to reassure.

Dean grins at him again “, well then Cas, prepare for the ride of your life.”

With that Dean puts the car into gear and they are driving again. At a slow crawl, but the way Dean looks behind the wheel, makes Cas feel very hot. He doesn’t know if he will get through much more of this.

“So, Cas, this the first time you’re at the Parade?” Dean asks

“Yes, I just moved here a few months ago, to be closer to family. After I broke up with my then boyfriend, I just needed a change of scenery. Staying in the apartment, where I found him cheating on me, just didn’t feel right.” Cas explains.

Dean takes a moment to answer this time and Cas starts to worry that Dean will have a problem with Cas being gay.

“Well I’m sorry to hear that happened to you. No one should have to go through something like that.” Dean says comfortingly.

“Thank you, Dean. Do you have anyone in your life, Dean?” Cas questions.

“I don’t. But maybe my prospects are looking up, if the other party is also interested.” Dean says as he looks Cas up and down and gives him a teasing wink afterwards.

Cas flushes after that comment, but is encouraged by the obvious interest Dean had just shown in him. So Cas, feeling emboldened, moves his hand towards the middle of the seat, leaving it open for Dean to take, if he wishes to do so. The next moment Cas feels a calloused hand slide into his and Cas interlocks their fingers. He looks over at Dean to find him already looking back and they share a soft smile, before Dean turns to face the front again.

They spent the rest of the ride through the streets like that. Holding hands and getting to know each other. When they get out of the car at the end of the Parade, Cas is already missing the feel of Dean’s hand in his. Cas pulls out his phone and looks at it for the first time since he got into Dean’s car, a few hours ago. He finds a lot of missed calls and texts from Jimmy, Gabe and Amelia. Oh shit, he totally forgot to tell them what happened to him. As another call from Jimmy comes in, Cas swipes to accept it.

“Oh thank god, Castiel. Where the hell are you? We have been trying to reach you for hours. You just got into a stranger's car and then you were gone. And you haven’t been answering any of our messages. We’ve been worried sick.” Jimmy lets out worriedly.

“I’m fine and safe. Apparently they do this every year. They offer people to drive in the cars with them. The guy that pulled me in, was just too excited and forgot to tell us what was happening.” Cas explains, in a reassuring voice.

Jimmy lets out a sigh of relief. Cas can hear him talk in a softer voice, what he assumes to be the rest of his family. Probably explaining to them what’s happening.

Cas hears a crackle over the phone, before Jimmy seems to be back on the phone again. “Do you need us to pick you up somewhere?”

“No it’s alright. I’ll find my way back somehow.” Cas says.

“Are you sure? It wouldn’t be much of a bother.” Jimmy questions.

“Yes, I’m sure. I am an adult. You know that, right?” Cas asks.

“Yes, I do know. It’s in the nurture of an older brother, to worry about their younger siblings.” Jimmy explains.

Cas shakes his head a bit, letting out a soft huff. “Jimmy, you’re older by two minutes. I don’t think that counts for much.”

“Oh. It counts. Very much so. But please call me if you don’t know how to get home?” Jimmy asks.

“I will. Goodbye, I’ll see you later.” Cas answers. He waits for Jimmy to say goodbye as well, before hanging up the phone.

When he turns back around, he finds Dean leaning against the passenger side door. Dammit that should definitely not look that hot. Cas steps in closer and Dean pulls him even closer, until they are flush against each other.

Dean gives him a worried look, “everything alright?”

“Yes, sorry. My family was just worried, since I didn’t answer them. But everythings alright now. I explained what happened.” Cas whispers in between them.

“Okay, well if everything is alright now. You want me to drive you home?” Dean asks.

“I would appreciate that.” Cas replies.

Dean looks between them, where Cas is still pressed to his front. “You’ll have to let me go, if you want me to drive.”

“I know, but before that I would really like to kiss you. Is that okay with you?” Cas wonders.

“Oh it is so okay.” Dean answers, before surging forward to kiss Cas.

Eventually they will pull back from their kiss, but for now they enjoy some time just making out lazily against Baby’s door.

[super-ion]

Been slowly working on a new story. Mostly mental work so far, but I got a couple snippets that I wanna share to try to get me motivated.

She grabs my arm and shoves me roughly against the wall of the alleyway. "What-" She slaps a hand against my mouth and leans in. "Soldiers. Shut up." She presses her body against mine, leaning in far too intimately. I hear the bootsteps and try not to think about how incredibly close her face is to mine. The soldiers are talking casually as they pass. One pauses, noticing us, but quickly continues, most likely made uncomfortable by the scene of our apparent romantic encounter. Something under her hood twitches and I can make out a long tapered ear that has come loose from her head wrap. The soldiers pass and she releases me to peer cautiously at the street. "We need to get out of the city," she mutters. "You're... you're void touched?" I stammer. She goes still and her ears quiver again. It's unmistakable this time, definitely not my imagination. Finally she scowls and flicks her hood back slightly to adjust the wrap on her head. "Yeah," she replies accusingly, "that's what happens when generations of people grow up breathing adamantine dust."

I watched Castle in the Sky for the very first time a couple months ago, then I went on a Treasure Island retelling kick. I also really want to write something gender bendy.

She shimmies out of the tight space, first revealing a fluffy bobbed tail, then a tight sleeveless shirt, filthy with sweat and grease. I can't help but stare at the lean wiry muscles of her arms and shoulders and the fine pattern of criss crossing scars in her skin. Then finally, her head pops out followed by a fist clenched around a wrench. "Alright!" she calls to the other end of the room, apparently not noticing me. "Let her rip!" I can't hear the sound of whatever levers are being thrown over the noise of the working engines, but I *feel* the thump as some mechanism rumbles to life. Then comes a lurch in my stomach and every hair on my arms stands up as the air comes alive. Her ears and tail quiver with excitement and she grins. She turns and jumps slightly at the sight of me. "Oh! Hey Fay!" She sees the bottle of water and makes grabby hands for it. She gulps greedily, her skin glistening with sweat from the hot engine room. I stare at the arch of her neck. There's a streak of dust smeared across her cheek. She lowers the bottle with a satisfied smack of her lips. "Whatya think?" she asks, tapping her wrench lightly on the metal shell of the machinery behind her. "Thaumaturgic heat exchanger, specially modified. Take care of her and she'll keep you flying forever." She tosses the wrench spinning and deftly catches it with a wink in my direction. I feel my face flush and I don't think it's from the heat of the engine room.

Also, it's got girls falling in love with girls

My breath is coming quicker and quicker now. The danger is past, but the tightness in my chest has only grown worse as the horror of my situation has set in. "Hey! Fay. Ya good?" My eyes jerk sharply towards Lexia. She's staring at me with a look of naked concern. How can she look at me like that, knowing what I am? "I'm... I'm not... My whole life is a lie. I'm not who I'm supposed to be. I'm not... I'm not anyone." The tightness in my chest is a physical pain now. How can I- Her hands are on my cheeks, pushing my face gently up to meet her soft brown eyes. "Hey," she says softly. "Yer... I dunno who yer supposed t' be, I never met that person. But I did meet you. Yer kind and beautiful and brave and you cook the best dumplings I've ever had and... gods, I ain't good at this sorta thing. I guess what I'm trying to say is I know *you* and I'm glad I got to meet *you*." I stand frozen in her gaze, not trusting myself to look away, lest I burst into tears. "You think I'm beautiful?" I ask, my voice a hoarse whisper. Her face colors. "Er... inside beautiful, like nice and caring and that sort of thing... I mean, yer outside beautiful too, no doubt about that... Er, I mean... ah... hmm..." She looks so flustered now, I can't help but laugh. I fall into an awkward embrace and I laugh and cry and it hurts. I bury my face in her shoulder and her arms close reassuringly around me.